


The White Wolf of the North

by Adara_Rose



Series: Mages&Templars AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gladiators, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love Conquers All, Magic, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Romance, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Templar Anna Hawke has been sent on a quest to the distant Tevinter to locate and free the White Wolf, a man she has never met but is destined to bond with. </p><p>Far beyond the seas, in fair Minrathous, a slave is suffering under a cruel master, his skin branded with vicious scars and a power within he is as of yet unaware of. The slave's name is Fenris.</p><p>When Anna and Fenris meet, they start a chain reaction that will change the world as they know it. But first, she must survive the challenges of the arena... and win their freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Vigil’s Keep was a positively ancient, crumbling castle that wobbled precariously on the edge of a cliff above the small city of Amaranthine, in the shire known as Amaranthine. Once upon a time it had been the castle of Teyrn Howe, the ruler of Amaranthine, but about a hundred years ago it had come into the hands of the templar order. No one knew quite how this had come to pass, although there were rumours. The most popular rumour involved a card game, a handsome young templar, and a donkey. How exactly the donkey fit in varied depending on who told the story, though. At the present, however, Vigil’s Keep was a gigantic stone colossus that looked like a strong breeze was going to send it toppling into the ocean with its leaky roofs and patched walls. According to popular opinion the place should have been decreed unfit for habitation at least fifty years ago, but to this day it was still filled to the rafters with templars, recruits, random soldiers and a suspicious amount of merchants. The merchants were the typical sort; fat, grumpy, selling their wares far too expensively and complaining excessively about everything from the lodgings (too small) to the dogs (too large). It was curious, however, that they had so very fat purses when the Most Esteemed Royal Knight Commander of Vigil’s Keep (who preferred Duncan, or serah at a push) insisted, sometimes multiple times a day, that there was no money in the templar coffers. Usually when asked by recruits to buy such frivolous things as new blankets. The hustle and bustle of the place was constant, and the only times it was silent was when something shady was going on. Or at night. But then again, those two things usually coincide.

 

At the present time there were approximately fifty templar recruits in training at Vigil’s Keep, and they were all gathered in the exercise field just outside the castle. They were supposed to stand in neat lines, face the podium and be completely quiet, but the Knight Commander - sorry, Duncan - had given up trying to get them into something vaguely resembling order twenty minutes ago and just watched them mill around in exasperation. They looked like ants in a molehill. No, that was unfair to the ants. Ants were usually organized, not milling about like demented chipmunks and chittering amongst themselves like squirrels fighting over an acorn, generally causing a ruckus.

 

To provide contrast for this, there was a completely serene elven woman sitting in a high chair on the dais above the exercise field. She was stunningly beautiful with her long dark hair, exquisite red dress and ornate ruby necklace, matched by the earring in her slender, delicately pointed ear. The other ear was covered by a large red rose, so it was impossible to see if it too had an earring. On her forehead burned a dark red tattoo, stark against her pale skin. It was in the shape of a tower. The woman had a name, Kallian Andras, but she was more known throughout the known world by her title; Matchmaker. It sounded a lot more romantic than it actually was, for in fact she was the only living person in the world who could see the bond between mage and templar before it had manifested. A manifested bond was visible by anyone who concentrated hard enough and had enough second sight, but only the Matchmaker was ever able to see the link between unbonded mages and their templars. Behind her chair stood a templar in ceremonial chainmail, with a heavy broadsword strapped to his back. He looked to be in his forties, greying at the temples. To their side stood Duncan with a scroll in his hands.

 

There was something not quite right with the woman in the chair, but Anna Hawke (recruit, second year, from Lothering, preferred weapon: two-handed sword) couldn't figure out what. The woman was beautiful with her dark hair, red dress and glittering jewels, but still a sense of wrongness. It might be the vacant gaze, but they had been warned that the matchmaker was tranquil so it was no surprise to see her face expressionless like a mask. No, it was something else. Anna squinted in the mid-morning sunlight and raised her hand to shield her eyes. The Knight Commander had finished hollering at them to shut up and hold still and was now going through his speech about the Duty of the Templar Being to Guard the Mages. It was a speech they had all heard dozens of times and could most likely recite in their sleep, but they listened politely anyways. Or at least they pretended to listen. Anna was one of those who pretended, too busy musing over what it was that was odd about the woman. She stared intently at her, determined to figure out what it was that had alerted her.

 

It wasn’t until it became her turn to step onto the dais and meet the Matchmaker’s gaze that she realised what it was. The dress. No woman's dress drapes like that. Pleased that she had solved the puzzle, Anna promptly forgot all about it as was her way and merrily returned to her fellows, giving Aveline an encouraging smile as the redheaded woman stepped onto the dais to face the empty gaze of the Matchmaker.

 

* * *

Once the chair had been carried back to the chambers assigned to the matchmaker and the door had been closed and locked, the templar leaned over Kallian in her chair and placed his arm behind her slender back. Then he leaned over her and slid his other arm under her legs. This was the tricky bit: she didn't weigh much but if he didn't get a good grip she'd be impossible to carry. As always, she lay in his arms like a limp doll or a small child, with no apparent awareness. He turned and carried her over to the bed and laid her down gently, not wanting to cause her any unnecessary pain. Then he set about doing what had, for the last seven years, been a daily routine.

 

First, he removed the pretty red dress he had put on her that morning. Then he removed the thin shift she wore beneath it and Kallian laid on the bed in only her smalls, devastatingly beautiful and horrifying malformed at the same time. He fetched the required items from their chest and set about tending to his mage.

 

Each scar, and there were many, was gently covered in a cream of elf’s ear to prevent infection, and he carefully unwrapped the thin gauze wrapped around her knees, inspecting the surfaces of the jagged stumps that was all that remained of her lower legs. They looked pink and healthy, but you never know with magical wounds and he decided to take her to a circle after they were done here. Have a healer look her over. He covered the stumps in cream made from Andraste's grace and lavender and wrapped them in fresh bandages. The old ones he would wash later, after they had eaten. After having rewrapped the bandages, he checked her hands.

 

Kallian's hands still had the power to bring tears to his eyes: he remembered her hands before, how she could weave the most complex spells and make them look easy. You can't weave a spell when you only have two fingers on one hand and none on the other. The hands were the most obvious sign of Kallian's suffering, and the most devastating contrast to her unmarred face. Well, unmarred apart from the brand on her forehead. The brand of tranquillity.

He held her fingered hand in his for a few moments, until he felt a miniscule squeeze of slender fingers. He gave her a trembling smile to show her it was alright, then gently worked the same cream he'd used on her legs into the skin of her hands.

 

When he had finished this part of the routine. He carefully lifted her up again, carrying her over to the table. The scar cream needed exposure to sunlight to be truly effective, so he usually helped Kallian with lunch after he'd used it. He sat down and adjusted her on his lap. It was easiest for the both of them, since Kallian struggled to hold a spoon and this way he could support her while she ate. Lunch was a collection of cold meat, cheese and bread, which he cut into chunks small enough for her to pick up and hold. Once she had eaten her fill, she rested her head on his shoulder: one of the few things she did that kept the hope alive in him. The hope, that she was still in there somewhere. That there was more than this broken shell.

"Templar" she whispered. Nothing else. It was the only thing she had said to him in seven years, and it was said in the same impassioned voice she said anything in. But that was all she needed to say: after all this time, he knew her almost better than he knew himself.

"Mage" he whispered into her hair, hugging her briefly. She sat there, still and silent, resting against him, until he had finished their lunch. Then he carried her back to bed, dressed her in the pretty red dress, put her jewellery back on and placed her in her high chair. He adjusted the sleeves to make sure they covered her ruined hands. Then he went to the door, opened it and addressed the guard standing outside.

"We are ready now" he said. "Fetch the Knight Commander."

 

* * *

 

Knight Commander Duncan looked at the scroll in front of him with deep concentration, resolutely avoiding looking at the Matchmaker. He had met Kallian many times before, but her mere presence still had the ability to make him feel uncomfortable - and ashamed.

He remembered the chamber of horrors every time he looked at her: remembered the rack, the nude elf woman with her empty eyes. Meredith standing over her with the brand of tranquillity in her hands, a look of cruel triumph on her face. They had overpowered her, of course, led her away in chains. She had been screaming and ranting about how mages needed to be controlled, how their power was dangerous. But when Duncan looked at Kallian all he saw was the ruin of a bright, talented young woman. The danger had been the templar. And none of them had seen it.

 

He remembered Kallian before. She had been powerful, extremely so, trained on Skyhold. He still didn't know why she had been sent to Kirkwall, but it was there she had been bonded to Meredith. He wondered now, how soon after the bonding the abuse had started. He knew she had been quiet and kept to herself, but how much of that had been her own nature and how much had been Meredith? He couldn't answer. All he knew was that he had failed Kallian.  They all had.

 

The process of working through the list of possible templars was the same no matter which compound they visited: the commander read a name from their list, and Kallian replied with a circle they should be placed at. If so was the case, she would also name a mage suitable for bonding with them. This information would be announced at next morning's assembly and within the week the templars that had been stationed would be on their way. The matchmaker herself would usually stay on for a week or two longer, to rest from her constant travelling. Then she would leave for a circle, to examine the unbonded mages living there. It was an easy system, and it worked well for everyone involved. The downfall was the matchmaker herself. In all the known world, there was only one with her ability. Only ever the one, and therefore she had to be constantly guarded.

 

Duncan looked at his list, drew a deep breath and read out the first name, picking up the quill as he did so.

“Alistair.”

It did not take long before Kallian's toneless voice gave him an answer.

 

* * *

That night, Knight Commander Duncan read out the assignments for the templars Kallian had deemed ready to graduate from their apprenticeship, and had added “to be bonded” to a few of them. The chosen ones looked at each other in a mixture of nerves and trepidation, but Anna sat quiet, a frown marring her face. What could the commander possibly have meant with “Anna Hawke, come speak to me after dinner”? Caelan Hawke, twin brother of Anna, put his arm around his sister and affectionately pulled at her hair. They did not particularly look like twins, the brother and sister Hawke. Alright so they were both tall, but she was golden and he was dark. She had blonde, curly hair but his was straight and brown. Her eyes were blue as the sky, his were dark brown like fresh dirt. But they had the same sense of humour and the same way to turn everything into a joke and never take anything seriously. They laughed the same and smiled the same, sang the same silly songs and finished the majority of each other’s sentences.

“Don’t worry” He said cheerfully and yanked at her braid, making her retaliate immediately by kicking him on the shin as hard as she could. He just laughed.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Aveline, who sat directly opposite her, gave Anna an encouraging smile.

“You’ll be fine, Hawke. Don’t worry, eat your dinner. It will work out.”

“I sure hope so” Anna murmured, picking at her plate. She was usually quite fond of food, and if it wasn’t for her rigorous exercising - and preference for the heavy two-handed blade - she would probably have been rather pudgy by now. But tonight she had no appetite whatsoever, and only had seconds twice. Once she had left the hall to go speak to the Knight Commander, Alistair, who was tall and blonde and reminded everyone of a cute and cuddly but not particularly intelligent puppy, turned to Caelan and Aveline with a worried expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with Anna?” He asked. “She barely touched her food!”

“I don’t know.” Caelan shrugged helplessly.

 

* * *

Anna stood outside the Knight Commander’s office and tried to get her knees to stop shaking, but it was no use. They felt about as sturdy as a single strand of grass, and really she just wanted to turn tail and run like a complete coward. Unfortunately, just as she was getting ready to make a truly impressive imitation of a rabbit the door opened and she found herself face to face with Duncan.

Duncan had to smile at the look on the girl’s face: she looked like a deer faced with a hunter. Like she didn’t know whether to wet herself, cry, or run, but was seriously considering doing all three at the same time. He took pity on the poor thing and gestured at her to enter. She did so slowly, clearly nervous. Finally she sat in his guest chair, but at the very edge of it as if ensuring that she would be quick on her feet should the need arise. He waited until she stopped looking like she was about to throw up.

“You are not in trouble, Hawke” he said, but it was clear from her facial expression that she didn’t believe him.

“You are in my office because when your name was mentioned to the Matchmaker she did not simply give a location and the name of your mage, Anna. She spoke a riddle, a prophecy if you will. And therefore, you are to be given a quest.” He looked down at the sheet of parchment that laid before him, cleared his throat and read:

 

_Deep in the north a jewel in snow,_

_A golden cage encased in stone._

_Where wolf and bird will come to know_

_The calling deep within their bones._

 

_Warrior dance upon golden sand,_

_Power and wisdom will test their hearts_

_Stay wary of the outstretched hand,_

_Three times a victor, ‘ere forever part._

 

_Wander close and journey far,_

_To the stone upon the lake._

_Putting faith in a distant star,_

_Love and hope and faith will wait._

 

_Journey through eternal darkness,_

_Faces she unnameable foes_

_Prove her wit and prove her prowess,_

_And follow wherever he goes._

 

_Her soul a-brightly burning_

_As golden as the dawn_

_The silken glove a-spurning,_

_Although the path is long._

 

_With her sword bright burning,_

_Deep in the deepest night,_

_From beyond returning_

_To dare a dragon’s might._

 

_For love of one who, hand outstretched,_

_All alone must stand_

_Hope so frail and soul so wretched,_

_Heart in scar-marked hand._

 

Anna blinked in confusion.

“I got about half of that” she said.

“Well” Duncan said, “That’s the usual way with prophecies. They make no sense whatsoever until they’ve occurred, and then you kick yourself for being an idiot and not figuring it out sooner.” He shrugged. “I will give you a copy, so you can take it with you. The matchmaker also said that you are to travel to the Northern City which glimmers like jewels, and there you will find the White Wolf of the North. He needs your help and he is your mage.” Anna frowned.

“Who names their kid White Wolf?” she asked. “And which bloody Northern City? In case you haven't noticed, half of Thedas counts as North!” Duncan smiled at the blonde woman’s outburst. Typical Anna.

“I have no idea who names their child White Wolf” he said, “but I do know where the Northern City which glimmer like jewels is. Tell me Anna, what have you heard of Tevinter?”

 


	2. Strangers in the night

Anna pulled the thick woollen cloak tighter around her and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. She had known it was going to be cold since Tevinter was experiencing one of the worst winters for years, but she hadn't expected her hair to feel like it had turned into icicles before she even made it to the harbour in Minathrous. She descended from the ship carefully, as the gangplank had iced over in the short time it had been out. To be fair, she had hidden in the hull for as long as possible before braving the outside,  but eventually the captain’s glare was enough to make even her uncomfortable and so there she was, on the docks, no idea where to start searching. She didn't even have a name - just "the white wolf of the north city". Blasted matchmaker.

 

She tried to make herself as small as possible as she started walking down the cobbled street, shivering in the chilly wind. First off: shelter. Then food. Lastly, information.  Surely someone somewhere knew something, she thought as she made her way past the day labourers with their heavy barrels and sacks, making a rude gesture to a sailor who tried to slap her arse, and found her way into the city proper. Since she had no way of knowing where she was meant to go, she began wandering aimlessly down the city streets. The only thing she knew was that she was searching for a white wolf, but going around asking people that particular question was most likely a one-way ticket to the nearest bedlam, and she was not in the mood to try to talk her way out of a madhouse. So, she wandered. Street up, and street down, looking around in increasing awe at the city of Minathrous. The architecture was unlike anything she had ever seen in her admittedly limited experience, with its smooth plastered walls and elegant houses, most of them crowned with spires and gleaming like jewels in the late afternoon sun. The streets were still mostly white from the snowfall, unlike Kirkwall - where she had changed ships - where the snow melted before it even landed on the ground, joining the brown sludge in the gutters. Here it draped over buildings and streets - and people - like a gentle white shroud. She wondered if it was magic, since wherever she looked her skin tingled in the way she had been taught to connect with magic. She looked down at her simple, unadorned chainmail and was suddenly relieved that she had heeded First Enchanter Orsino’s advice to leave her templar mail in Kirkwall. She had a feeling walking around thus adorned would get her into a world of trouble she simply did not have time for. She needed to find the wolf, and the faster the better. But it was cold, and she was tired, and she needed to rest. She stopped at a street corner and looked around, hoping to see a sign marking an inn. There was an elegant bookshop, an alchemy shop, another (bigger, more elegant) bookshop and… Anna burst out laughing. A sign hung from the building, proudly proclaiming WELCOME TO THE WHITE WOLF INN!

 

* * *

A slim, slender elf male of above average height was at the same time as Anna found the inn stalking down a nearby abandoned street. A scowl was marring the elegant face with its high cheekbones, ruining what once upon a time had most likely been the classic beauty that most elves possessed. Now, however, his skin was marred by horrifying scars in a pattern that most definitely was not natural, with its straight lines and raised ridges. His name was Fenris, and he was on the run.

 

Fenris’ veins boiled with a helpless fury that made his face twist in a furious snarl. His hands, clenching and unclenching like an angry cats, gleamed with blue fire the colour of his eyes. At this point Danarius had most likely discovered his little coup and sent men out searching for him, to take him back to the Bastard in chains like a disobedient puppy. This thought made him even angrier than he already was and in his impotent rage he kicked a nearby wooden barrel so hard it shattered and spilled its contents all over the ground and his naked feet. _Old fish, kaffas!_ Luckily, no one had seen him. He hurried on down the street, realising that he needed a place to stay the night. The cold was creeping into his bones and though his tight black leathers may have looked impressive to a casual onlooker the way they accentuated his strong thighs and muscular arms, they were of little use in warding off the chill. He rubbed his bare, scarred arms and found himself thankful that he was in one of the seedier parts of town, one where everybody minded their own business. Finding an inn where he could hide for a few hours should not be too difficult. There was one on the corner, and he figured that it might as well do - the White Wolf Inn. It didn’t look _too_ shabby, either, he noted when he stepped in. It was filled with the usual assortment of labourers and drunks, he even saw a soporati or two in the corner. He went straight over to the barkeep and asked for a room for the night.

“Sorry mate” the man behind the counter replied, “just rented out the last one.” Fenris was convinced that he was lying, but before he could make any sort of threats a voice addressed them both.

“It’s fine. He can share with me.” He turned his head and saw a blond human woman, with blue eyes twinkling at him in a way that - much to his surprise - made him feel slightly unnerved. What was it with this wench? He was pretty sure he had never seen her before in his life (at least not as far back as he could remember) but she was smiling at him as if they were old friends. Calling himself all kinds of stupid he joined her at her table, and contented himself with glaring at her when she ordered soup, bread and ale for them both. Who did he think he was, some half-starved mongrel?  
“I’m sorry,” she said, as if she had sensed his animosity. “I’m hungry, and I thought you might be too. I’m Hawke, by the way. Anna Hawke.”

“Fenris” he replied, but didn't say much else. Why should he tell this stranger anything? She didn't seem very talkative either, content to sit silently and wait for their meal. The food, when it arrived, was warm and hearty, the stew thick and musty and full of vegetables. He couldn't discern what kind of meat was in it, but it didn't really matter as it filled his empty belly quickly, along with big chunks of the freshly baked brown bread. The only thing that unnerved him a bit was how the woman - Anna - kept looking at him, not tearing her eyes away for a moment even when she was eating. Finally he'd had enough of her scrutiny.

“What are you staring at?” He snarled. She just grinned.

“The man that will be sleeping in my bed tonight.” He stared at her. How dared she make such an assumption?

“Sharing a room, remember?” She said. “There's only one bed and somehow I rather doubt you want to sleep on the floor.” Well, she did have a point there.

 

* * *

The evening was late, and he had most likely had at least two drinks too many, Fenris admitted to himself as he sank into the comfortable chair next to the fireplace in the room they would be sharing. Anna closed the door and latched it, before starting to remove her chainmail and weaponry. Then she, much to his surprise, kept undressing. It was like he wasn't even in the room! Within moments she stood there in only her smalls, undoing her braid and letting her blond hair tumble down her shoulders like a river of gold.

“You don't mind, do you?” she asked, “I usually sleep nude but I figure you'd be uncomfortable with that.” He wondered if she realised how much that sounded as an invitation, but when she turned her head to look at him he could see the same twinkle in her eyes he had seen earlier that night, when she offered to share a room. Oh yes, she knew perfectly well how that sounded. It sounded exactly as what she meant for it to be - an invitation to share not only her bed, but her body as well. And suddenly he wanted her. He wanted to have this woman, to rut with her, to ride between the long legs he could not take his eyes from. He had _never_ reacted to any woman like this before; for a long time he had thought himself unable to feel attraction to anyone. He could perform sexually, but it was a chore, a demeaning act to be endured. Not something to be desired. But he was desiring now. It scared him slightly, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Anna turned around slowly, still holding him captive with her eyes. That's when he realised that she was, in fact, _only_ wearing her smalls - her breasts were full and round, with small pink nipples already hard and peaked, inviting him to wrap his lips around them. So, he stood from his chair, stalked through the room and did just that - ran his tongue over the full swell of her breasts, tasting her skin, suckling on her nipples like a babe at the teat, hands grabbing her buttocks. They fitted perfectly in his hands, and the way she moaned and buried her fingers in his white hair was perfect, too. He slid his fingers under the fabric that covered her most private parts and yanked it off in one hard tug, ignoring the fact that it ripped under his hands. Anna just gave a breathy laugh, even though she now stood before him nude while he was still fully clothed. It was as if she gained more power over him this way; standing vulnerable, uncovered, unprotected, it was still she that was the stronger of them. They both knew it, but it only heightened his desire for her.

 

He pushed her back onto the bed, and she fell, still laughing, sprawled before him in all her glory. Her thighs fell open as if by their own will, baring her completely to his ravenous eyes. He wanted to bury himself between the pink folds of her sex, sink his cock so deep inside her trembling quim his balls pressed against her buttocks, to fuck her until she screamed his name, screamed for him to stop, and then fuck her harder until she came apart under him. Wanted her to claw at his back and bite his shoulder and clutch at his buttocks as he rode her, wanted her wetness and heat and hunger, wanted her until the sun rose, then mount her again with the morning sun shining on their sweat-slicked bodies. Anna raised her hand and crooked her finger in a “come here”-gesture, her eyes shining with mirth and desire as she cocked her hips in blatant invitation.

 

When the sun rose, many hours later, the first rays fell on Anna's hair, turning it into a waterfall of molten gold as she straddled his hardness, riding him with the same frenzied hunger he had ridden her, over and over again. She was wrecked, soaked in sweat, covered in bite marks and bruises reminding him of what the night had brought, and he wondered as he bit his lip and slammed his hips up to meet her, if he wasn't about to fall just a bit in love with her. If he hadn’t already.

 

 


	3. Like a disobedient puppy

Fenris stared out the barred window, hands clenching and unclenching like an angry cat. This latest humiliation was only the last in a long line, but it still had him wanting to rip of Hadriana's face. Preferably with his teeth. He shivered as a cold gust of wind whirled through the window and wrapped itself around his body, which was still nude. As nude as he had been when the guards had burst into the room and overpowered him and Anna, dragging them both off in chains. They had both fought, of course, him with his fists and the power within him, she with her sword. A shiver of arousal slipped through him as he thought of how she had looked with her sword and shield, a whirling dervish of death, without a stitch of clothing on her body. At least they had wrapped her in a shroud before they were dragged off. He didn’t know where she was now, or what had become of her. He had been thrown in this cell immediately upon their arrival at Danarius’ mansion, and all he knew was that Anna had still been in the grand entrance hall by then. He had not had any visitors yet, so there was no one he could get information from. All he could do was hope that she was alive. He huddled in the corner furthest from the window, trying to make himself as small as possible. His body ached from battle, and bruises were starting to appear over most of his body. Some of them, though, were pleasant to look at: the marks that Anna had made in her passion. And oh, what a sight her passion had been! He could almost sense her hands, even now, and the feeling of rightness as they touched him. The chill permeated his bones, turning his mind sluggish and tired. Even though he struggled, he soon gave in to the exhaustion. He fell asleep, cheek pressed against the cold stone, arms wrapped around his knees. He dreamed of Anna.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna winced at the soreness in her shoulders, knowing the pain to come, but she still would not scream even as the chains were wrapped around her slender wrists and they were slowly raised over her head. Soon she was standing on her tiptoes, and still the chain tightened until she hung from her wrists, forcing her arms to support her entire body weight. Her arms screamed in pain but she clenched her teeth and refused to show the tormentor any weakness. She could survive this, she would survive this, she _had_ to survive this - and free Fenris. That was her mission and she would not fail her mage now that she had finally found him. The man who had tormented Anna on and off for two days walked over to stand in front of her, running one of his grubby hands down the length of her nude body. She tried, but could not suppress a disgusted shudder. It made her feel filthy and used, and she wanted more than anything to kick him as hard as she could. But she remembered what he had done to her when she did just that, so she grit her teeth and endured.

“Pity the master wants you untouched” he lamented. “Ranted something about you quickening with the source’s seed, and that the vessel mustn’t be sullied.” He leaned in and Anna couldn’t avoid smelling his foul breath. “Pity, that, I bet your quim is nice and tight.” Ah, to the void with the consequences, Anna thought and spat in the bastard's face.

The satisfaction at seeing the look of shock on his face vanished quickly, though, when he picked up a wooden staff and struck her, hard, in the chest. Anna cried out as she felt something inside snap. The pain was agonizing. The last thing she heard before she passed out was the torturer’s mocking laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

The door to the cell opened slowly, and Fenris carefully stretched his aching limbs. The cold muscles screamed in protest at the motion but he would not face whoever was going to enter huddled up like a child. He would stand tall, even if his legs were shaking.

Danarius stood in the doorway and looked at him with barely restrained disappointment in his cold grey eyes.

“My sweet little wolf” he chided, “how you sadden me. Have I not given you everything? A home, clothes, power. I’ve even turned a blind eye to you cavorting with my apprentice. And this is how you repay me? Run of and rut with a dog lord?” Fenris said nothing. When his master was in this sort of mood it was best to do so. It was only a matter of time before the rage simmering beneath the surface would be released and then the pain would begin. Danarius shook his head, clucking his tongue like a mother chiding his child.

“Well” he went on, “At least it brought one good thing with it. You chose well - she’s strong, and at the height of her cycle, too. There is a distinct possibility that she’s already quickening. I’ve always wanted to breed you.” Fenris’ brain was a whirlwind of confusion. Quickening? Breeding? He was too cold, too exhausted, to think. Danarius calmly went over to him and attached a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

“Come now, little wolf, let’s get you fed. And dressed. And later, maybe I’ll let you breed your little bitch again.” He led an unresisting Fenris out of the cell and down the stairs. He came obediently, ready to do anything to get out of the cell, out of the cold. His thoughts again went to Anna, and this time something so shocking happened that he lost his footing and stumbled on the staircase. The chain around his neck tightened painfully, but he was barely aware of it. He had thought of Anna - _and she had answered him!_

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in updating this. My mother passed away recently, and writing has honestly been the last thing on my mind. I hope to be back to semi-regular updates now, however.

Fenris' shock and confusion welled over Anna like a tidal wave, followed swiftly by red hot rage. She lay on the straw in her little cell and tried to breathe shallowly through her aching chest and send calm to him at the same time. In hindsight, sex on the first date had probably not been a good idea, but she had wanted him from the moment he stepped through the door. Now she could feel the anticipated bond hum between them, growing stronger and stronger by the minute. Soon she would be able to enter his dreams. She would explain everything then. Until then all she could do was try to calm him.

 

The door to her cell opened and Anna slowly raised her head to look at whoever had entered. It was a young, beautiful woman in a rich silk robe. She was everything Anna was not: elegant, refined, slender, exotic and beautiful. If the situation had been different, Anna would have been intimidated by the stranger. Now she just felt tired. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd last eaten: time had no meaning here.

"So" sneered the woman and took a few steps into the cell. "You are the fabled dog lord my master's prize ran off to rut with." Her exquisite face twisted into an ugly grimace.

Anna didn't reply. She would have loved to give this woman a piece of her mind, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and it felt as though her throat was full of nettles. Maker, she was so thirsty!

The woman scowled even more when Anna apparently ignored her, and in a flash she was standing over her kicking her several times in the side with her dainty feet. She struck the broken ribs and in an instant, all Anna knew was darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

When she came to, she was kneeling uncomfortably on a stone floor, two heavy guards standing over her, their spears poking into her bruised back. If her mouth had not been so dry she would have cried out, but all she could manage was a low groan. One of the guards grabbed hold of her dirty, matted hair and forced her head back. Her sore muscles cried in pain and her eyes watered. Through the blur she could see a man sitting on a raised stone throne. He looked to be about the same age as her own father, grey at the temples and with fine lines around his eyes and mouth, and he was dressed in a robe even more costly and elegant than that uppity brat who had called her a dog lord. He was leaning back on the throne, looking for all the world as a bored king, and there was something about his eyes that made her blood run cold.

“So” he said in a voice as smooth as honey. “This is the fabled Anna. From Ferelden, I’ve come to understand. And you have a little secret, don’t you?” Anna tried to speak, but still could not move her tongue. Her head was aching horribly, making it difficult to focus on what the man was saying. He sneered at her as if she was something unpleasant he had wiped off from his shoe.

“A templar.” He spat out the word like a piece of raw meat in his midday stew. “What business have you in Tevinter, _spellsword_?” Anna tried desperately to speak, but could only managed a groan. Somehow, the man understood the sound and made an impatient gesture.

“Give her drink, blast it!” He ordered harshly, and one of the men holding Anna’s arms in an unforgiving grip scrambled to obey him.

 

The water was sweet and cool, and Anna drank as much as she could. In her haste she spilled half the first ladle over herself and nearly choked on the rest, coughing and spluttering, but thankfully the guard just refilled it. It felt as if she’d drunk a bucketful when she’d finally drunk herself unthirsty. Then she turned to the man on the throne and licked her cracked lips.

“Fenris.” She managed to get out. “I’ve come for Fenris.” The man’s face, who until now had been serene as a deep river, now cleared to show the shark swimming beneath the surface. Anna couldn’t hold back a flinch when she looked into his blazing eyes, but she did not look away. She would _not_ falter now that she had gotten this far.   
“Why do you want my pet?” He asked, his fury barely constrained.

“He is my mage.” Anna replied proudly, refusing to back down or bare her throat even if he was the one with the bigger teeth. The man stood up from his throne and stalked towards her, steps swift and measured, but betraying his rage. He stopped right in front of her, forcing her to bend her head back until her muscles screamed in order to keep his gaze.

“Is that so, spellsword. You want to take my prized possession and what, dance off into every after?” He sneered. Anna met his gaze unflinchingly.

“I will free him and take him with me to a circle where he will be trained to master his abilities. And I will be his guardian and protector. His warrior and his companion.” The man laughed at her.

“His warrior, you say! Well, a warrior you will prove yourself! It might even be amusing.” He eyed her speculatively, as if trying to determine her value like a gemstone on display. Anna’s neck muscles were getting numb at this point but she refused to avert her gaze. To her immense satisfaction, he was the first to look away. He turned away from her, and strolled back to the throne, muttering to himself as he walked. She couldn’t make out the words; they were spoken quietly and in a language that was unfamiliar to her. She looked straight ahead of her, giving her poor neck some reprieve, and watched him in silent defiance. Whatever he threw at her, she would emerge victorious. Fenris depended on her. Finally it seemed as if the man had reached a decision, and he sat down on his throne again, leaning back against the backrest and stretching his legs out in front of himself.

“I will challenge you” he said, still sounding amused. “To the three-fold challenge. If you win, I will give you my slave boy and you will both be free to leave Tevinter in whatever manner you wish. If you fail, I’ll have you burned at the stake as he watches. Understand?” Anna nodded. She had no idea what he was talking about, but here was her chance to free them both served to her on a platter. No matter how it turned out, she would be a fool not to take the offer.

“I understand.” she said, feeling proud of herself that her voice did not tremble.

“Excellent.” he nodded at the guards who pulled Anna on her feet and started dragging her out of the hall. “I will send you to the arena in the morning.” He waited until they had left, then turned to a dark corner of the room.

“I expect you heard all of it.” He said to the figure standing there, still and silent as a marble statue.

 

* * *

 

 

Fenris’ mind was spinning with confusion where he stood in the corner. Who was this woman he had met in the inn? Had she really come to Tevinter only to track him down? Why? What was a templar? And why did she refer to him as “her mage”? He had no magic in him that he knew off. Did she know what she was getting into? What the threefold challenge meant? Surely not, or she would never have agreed. Or would she have? The questions swirled in his head, each one of them making less sense than the last. Finally he decided that he had to find a way to answer the most important one: how in hell had she managed to speak to him _inside his head?_ He had no answers, and he knew better than to mention anything to Danarius. Most likely, such questions would end up with him in the laboratory, tied up while the mad bastard literally probed his brain. Instead he kept quiet throughout the afternoon, doing his chores without discussion, ate his dinner without complaint and when he was finally released he retired to his usual sleeping place - a simple cot in his master’s bedroom. Sleep came slowly, uneasily, as his mind still whirred with questions he had no way of answering. And not even the soothing waves of calm and comfort coming from Anna were enough to ease his discomfort. Eventually he fell asleep.

 

He found himself in a room he knew well, for every item in it was an object he was familiar with to the last detail. But there was a difference to it this time: The woman standing in front of the fireplace. She turned to him and it was Anna who stood there, a glowing sword in her hand.

“So this is your epicentre” she said.

“What are you doing here?” He spat. “This is my dream!”

“Yes, precisely. This is your dream, the only area of the fade I have access to.” She was smiling in the way he remembered from the inn, that infuriating all-knowing amused smirk as if she knew something he was not privy too. He had to battle an instinct to slap that smirk off her face. Or kiss it off. He wasn’t quite sure which impulse was stronger, so he settled for glowering. Anna sighed deeply, smirk diminishing slightly.

“I suppose I owe you a bloody good explanation” she said, looking everywhere but into his eyes. “How much do you know about templars?” Fenris frowned, if the question was meant to redirect his attention away from her, unfortunately it was working.

“Not much” he snarled, feeling a bit like a bear with a sore paw. “Sword wielding idiots who think mages are better off in collars.”

“Well, as much as you’d look delicious in a collar and nothing else-” she leered, but when he kept glowering the leer disappeared and a frown took its place. Fenris found himself strongly disliking that look on her face. It didn’t belong there. Anna sighed deeply.

“A templar is… well, think of me as a shield. A protector and guardian. A templar is bonded to a mage, and as such has access to the fade through them, but only to the areas of the fade that their mage visits. In the fade, their main task is to protect the mage from demons and the possibility of possession, like a living weapon. Outside the fade, they are a mage’s first line of defence. Basically, the templar is the sword and the mage is the arm. In return, the mage is the templar’s constant companion and guardian. In short, templar and mage are bound together, protecting and guiding each other inside and outside of the fade. Steel and Fire. I am steel.”

“And you think I am your … fire.”

“You sound sceptical.”

“I am sceptical. I am no mage.” He spat out the last word with a look of disgust on his face. Anna frowned. She was a templar, she could speak to him in his mind and walk in his dreams, what other proof did he need?

“Yet here I stand, in your dream.” Her calm was grating on his nerves. She was telling him that he was a mage! Ridiculous! His master was a mage, a hated, disgusting, blood-addicted mage that had made Fenris’ life hell for as long as he could remember. He, a mage? Never. Mages were power-mad, evil creatures that tormented anyone and everyone for their own sick amusement. You only had to look at his body to see that. And here stood this crazy woman whom he had spent precisely one night with, talking about how she was his and he was hers and- hold on a moment.

“Bonded!?” He demanded.

“Yes, bonded. Like married but on a soul-deep level. You and me for the rest of our lives.”

“I don’t even know you!” The protest sounded weak even to his own ears. Married? To this gorgeous woman? Well, if he had to be married…

“So?” Anna looked honestly confused. “What does that matter? Most templars and mages are bonded within an hour of meeting each other. If anything, we are a bit late.” She smiled at him again, that blasted smile that insisted on making him forget his ire for a brief moment. Then she cocked her head to the side.

“By the way” she said, thoughtful. “What is the threefold challenge?”

 

* * *

 

 

When Fenris woke in the morning it was with a sense of dread seeping through his entire body, centered on his chest and stomach whom both felt as if they were full of rocks, heavy and uncomfortable. He crawled out of bed with great reluctance and went to look for breakfast, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed, wrapped up in sheets that felt like an embrace. Like her embrace, from the dream. It had felt so good to lie there with his head on her chest, her arms around him. It had felt like safety, not a prison. Her hands had been gentle as her fingers stroked the lines on his back.

“One day” she had whispered, “I will ask about these and you will be ready to tell me. But that will not be tonight.”

She had not asked him anything else, nor had she spoken about magic. Instead she had told him how it was to grow up a poor man’s daughter on a farm in Ferelden, about her two brothers and the sister she had lost when she was but a child.

“She’s in a circle somewhere” she had said, “I don’t know which one. We were so little, no doubt she’s forgotten us.” Her voice had been sad, but at the same time accepting. He wondered why she did not question her sister’s abduction. But at the same time, the sister was a mage so it was probably better that she was locked away where she could not hurt anyone.

He had felt almost relaxed for the first time he could remember lying there, listening to her voice. Her hair had smelled of flowers and her voice had been like a gentle rainfall, covering him in warmth and sweet scents. He had never been much of a man of words, so he had just laid there and listened to her mostly humorous tales of her brothers. He could hear in every syllable how much she missed them, and wondered if anyone had ever spoken of him that way. He doubted it. No one misses a slave.

She was a warrior, he realised as he descended the stairs. He had felt it in every line of her body, every muscle. And today she would face the first of the first set of challenges to win his freedom. He hated himself for fearing for her life. She was just a templar, he had only known her for a few short weeks. And yet… it felt as if he had known her a lifetime.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Anna stood on legs that refused to stop shaking just inside the grand arena’s heavy Iron Gate, chewing on her lower lip. She could hear the roaring of the crowd in the distance, hear them yelling for the “Dog Lord” to come out and impress them. She had been given basic information about what she was meant to do, and privately she thought it was completely ridiculous. But she had agreed to face the threefold challenge, and face it she would. But to _jump over a rabid bull?_ It was ridiculous.And she had to do it not once, but nine times. In succession. If she managed all nine jumps, she would face the second part of the challenge: to hang on to the back of the same rabid bull for nine seconds. If she managed _that_ , she would have to slay the bull. With a wooden spear. Joy. If she succeeded in all three challenges of the day, she had been informed that she may request a boon of her challenger, magister Danarius. She already knew what to request: one night with Fenris. She missed his touch terribly, even though they met every night in the fade.

 

The gate slowly raised with a horrible grinding noise, and Anna walked into the sunny arena. She held her head high, refusing to show how frightened she really was, and as she blinked at the sunlight she was nearly deafened by the roaring of the crowd. When her eyes adjusted, she could see that most of the seats high above her head were filled with magisters and soporati, all having come to see the Fereldan woman face the first set of tasks. The arena was surprisingly warm and not a speck of snow was seen anywhere, indeed the sand beneath her feet was soft, warm and golden. _Magic,_ Anna thought, _it must be magic._ She walked into the arena’s center, stopped and waited. She had no idea what to expect, but figured that if she was in the middle of the arena when the bull was released she would have a choice of which direction to run in.

 

Then a voice boomed over the arena; Anna startled with shock, but could not see the speaker.

“Welcome one and all! Today we have quite a show for you all! A templar from Ferelden has travelled here to our fair city to face the threefold challenge to win the freedom of an elven slave!” The crowd roared, both with excitement and laughter. Anna refused to acknowledge the laughter, instead she jumped a little from foot to foot to warm up her muscles for what would most likely prove to be quite a dance. If only her partner had not been a rabid bull she would probably have enjoyed it.

“Release the bull!” The voice yelled excitedly, and Anna watched as the gate on the other side of the arena slowly raised. She drew a deep breath and braced herself.

 

Fenris stood by Danarius’ chair, a chain around his neck rendering him almost completely immobile. He kept his eyes firmly trained on Anna, willing her to run like the wind and jump like a gazelle. One misstep and her life would be forfeit. He saw Anna bend her knees and brace herself as the bull lowered its heavy head and ran straight towards her.

Anna could hear nothing above the roaring of her own blood in her ears, not the noise of the crowd nor the furious noises from the bull. She waited, her heart thundering in her chest. Waited, waited, eyes locked on the rapidly advancing beast. The crowd held their collective breaths: would the woman be slain before she even managed the first jump? Thirty feet now, twenty feet, ten feet. And then, Anna was in the air. She looked like a wisp or an air creature with her golden hair streaming behind her as she sailed over the bull as if it was nothing. The crowd cheered; now the real fun would begin. Anna ran through the arena, bull hot on her heels, darting and twisting around to get enough distance to attempt a jump. And there, there was her chance. Anna turned and threw herself in the air, sailing over the beast’s heaving back and landing hard in the sand. It hurt her feet, but she did not give herself time to catch her breath but ran as fast as she could.

 

Fenris leaned forward to see her better, holding his breath and praying to Gods he had not believed in for many years, to let her succeed again. Seven jumps more. No, six. Six jumps now. He could sense the displeasure practically radiating from his master, but he did not care. She was putting her life on the line for him, all for him. The least he could do was cheer for her, like the crowd whenever she successfully jumped over the bull.

 

The roaring of the crowd was almost deafening as Anna made her last jump, sailing over the beast as if she had wings. She made it seem effortless, but to his shock Fenris could sense her exhaustion and her fear. His heart was racing with her excitement, his legs trembling with effort even though she was the one who had been running. He watched with relief as two handlers froze the bull with a few well aimed winter’s grasps before loading it onto a cart and removing it from the arena. Anna stood alone in the middle of the pit, turning her face up towards the sun. Her hair was sweat-slicked and matted with dirt, the leathers she wore were dusty. She was stunningly beautiful in his eyes. Then she turned, and with the cheers and calls from the crowd she exited the arena.

 

“The first challenge has been met and won!” The announcer called with his magically enhanced voice. “See the second challenge in one hour!”

 

* * *

 

 

Anna gaped like a fool at the bull, gleaming with oil and grunting and growling like the previous one had. A rope was tied around its neck, the end of the cord resting on the heaving back. This was ridiculous; did they expect her to manage to hold on to the back of an oiled bull for nine seconds while it did everything in its power to throw her off? Yes, apparently. Anna sighed deeply and stepped onto the edge of the open cage holding the bull. The crowd was whispering, chattering, someone yelled at her to hurry up. Anna felt the intense urge to run like hell in the other direction, but instead she turned her face up towards the seats, trying again to spot Fenris amongst the many hundred that had come to watch this farce. She knew he was there, she could sense him. But seeing him was proving difficult. The quartermaster poked her in the back with his staff.

“Hurry up, dog. Your fans are waiting.” Anna gave him a scathing glare, but then climbed onto the back of the angry animal. Immediately, her legs became soaked with oil and she could feel herself slipping. She grabbed onto the rope and twisted it around her hand, trying to press her knees into the sides of the bull. She managed a little, but the oil prevented her from getting much traction. The disembodied voice from earlier called over the arena:

“It is time for the bull ride!” the crowd cheered. “Nine seconds our pretty Dog Lord has to stay on the bull’s back.” High above Anna’s head a red zero appeared. “Let’s see how well she manages! Release the bull!”

The cage swung open, a whip struck the bull over the back legs hard enough to draw blood and it set off, running into the arena as if a demon was after it. Anna clung on with everything she was, her hand blistering from the rough rope. This was ridiculous, lethal. She could feel herself slipping. The only thing she had to hold onto was the rope, and she clung to it for her life as the bull jumped around like a mad thing, kicking out with its back legs and twisting back and forth and from side to side to dislodge its rider. Distantly she could hear someone count the seconds she had managed to hold on. _Three… four… five…_ The sudden twist was so sudden Anna lost her grip on the rope and she slid dangerously low on one side. The crowd drew a collective breath: was she going to fall? Was this it, had she failed? But no, she managed to get the rope and pull herself back up. _Seven._ Fenris closed his eyes and prayed. _Eight. Nine!_ Anna let go of the rope the moment the number was yelled, and as the crowd howled and cheered and roared their approval, Anna ran for her life back to the safety of the pen where the handlers stood ready to restrain the bull. The second challenge had been faced and won.

 

* * *

 

After the ridiculousness of the earlier challenges, to actually hunt and slay the bull was child’s play in comparison, even though the spear broke in half within the first few minutes. Anna stood triumphant, spear head in her raised hand and a foot resting on the dead bull’s head. She beamed with pride as the crowd howled their approval and cheered for the day’s victor.

 

Fenris carefully did not look at his master, but could feel the fury emanating from the man like a sinister cloud. It made his blood run cold, but no matter how influential the man was - and he was one of the most influential men in the empire - not even he could change the outcome of public battle in the arena. Anna Hawke had been challenged and she had won.

The first part of the three-fold challenge had been bested.

Fenris could not help but smile as beamingly as she did, his entire body alight with her triumph and joy. If he had not been forced to remain by his master’s side due to the chain around his neck, he would have gone down into the arena and licked the sweat away from her upper lip before feasting on her mouth. He wanted her and he wanted her now. For an instant, he toyed with the idea of laying her down in the sand of the arena pit and sinking into her right there, seal her victory so to speak. She probably would let him, too.

 

He was torn from his fantasies by one of the Arena Officials, in the well-known emerald green robe, approaching Danarius.

“The champion has the rights to request a boon from the challenger” he began, clearly nervous to be so close to the magister.

“I am aware of that” Danarius sneered.

“The champion has requested that the Slave Fenris spends the night in her room.” For a moment Fenris wondered if his master was going to smite the poor man where he stood; his hand glowed with power. Then he made a rather obvious effort to restrain himself, mouth twisted with displeasure.

“Very well.” He released Fenris’ chain from around his wrist and handed it to the official. “I expect to have my property returned to me no later than day break.” The official bowed deeply and led Fenris away, into the back rooms of the arena.

 

It was dark, only a few torches lighting the narrow tunnel which led from the staff entrance and into the chambers where the gladiators lived. Fenris ignored the catcalls from some of them and lewd comments from others, most of them about which piece of furniture they would like to bend him over. The chain was more a decorative item than anything else, and a man who was not even _soporati_ had no chance to hold him fast; he could have killed the bastards before anyone realised that he was loose. But he restrained himself and thought of Anna. If he killed these men, as he was itching to do, they would not let him see her. And he needed to see her, damn it! He was aching to see her: two weeks had passed since he laid eye on her last. So he kept his head down and followed meekly behind the official, keeping the memory of golden hair at the front of his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna sank into the tub with a pleased sigh. It was really too small for her and she had to twist her limbs in what loosely resembled a sailor’s knot to fit. However, the water was clean and warm and did wonders for her stiff muscles. She picked up a bar of sweet smelling soap and started to lather up her aching arms, thinking of little except how to go about sending her eldest brother some sort of message. They were twins, and she could distantly sense him. He was troubled, sad, something clearly bothering him. She tried to send calming and comforting emotions, but wasn’t sure if he could sense them. They had never been this far away from each other before, and it saddened her immensely that he was suffering and she could not ease his pain. She sighed and leaned back as much as she could, letting the water loosen her muscles. Her mind strayed, as always, to Fenris. Where was he now? She toyed with the pleasing thought that he laid on the small cot that served as her bed, just waiting for her. It was a nice thought. Once she had satisfied herself that she was as clean as she could be, Anna stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the soft white robe waiting for her before returning to the small room she had been given in the arena’s gladiator stables. She startled with shock when she saw the man standing by the small table, pouring a glass of wine. He was slender, as all elves were, his hair a shocking shade of white-grey. His skin was as pale as the snow, accentuated by the black leather armour covering most of his body but leaving neck and arms bare. Heavy slave cuffs hung around his slim wrists, a matching collar around his neck. The scars that covered the entirety of his body just barely glowed blue with power, a power she could sense coming from him in waves. She wondered if he was even aware of it.

“Fenris” she whispered, as if afraid that he was only a phantom. He turned to her, and it really was him. She would know those pale blue eyes anywhere. He raised the glass to her, raising an eyebrow in question at the same time. Anna let the door slide close behind her as the robe fell to the floor, baring her body to his eyes. She had longed for his touch; everything else could wait until the hunger of her body had been quenched. And as he pulled her close and tasted the sweetness of her mouth, the hardness pressing against her hip reassured her that he, too, had longed for this night. This night that was theirs, only theirs. He would be hers, in her arms, and she could kiss every inch of his skin and trace each scar with her tongue if she so pleased. So that was exactly what she did.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I've just finished writing the entire story I might as well publish it. So here you are, 12 chapters in 1 night. Have fun.

Fenris laid in the dark on the thin cot that was his bed in his master’s quarters and listened to Danarius’ snores. It was late and exhaustion thrummed through his body, but sleep refused to come. Not even thinking about Anna helped calm him down tonight. He turned on his back, adjusting the pillow, and closed his eyes, thinking back to the last time he had been with her in reality, not just in dreams. Thirty long days had passed since the night she had won her first challenge, and tomorrow she would face the second one. She would do battle, that much he knew, but it would also be a requirement for her to show her intelligence and cunning. That was all he knew, it would have been suspicious of he had asked more questions and therefore he had instead done his best to listen in to conversations revolving around the arena, Anna or both. Unfortunately, Danarius was fully aware that his favourite toy was desperate to hear more and made sure that he didn’t. Fenris sighed, and tried to force his mind to let go of the worry for tomorrow. There was nothing he could do, anyways. His exhausted brain refused to listen, though, so instead he sought out the connection to Anna. It wasn’t very strong, but it was there: he could sense that she was sleeping peacefully in the way that only someone with complete faith in their abilities can. It would do her great injustice to doubt when she herself was so confident, he thought, and instead attempted to fill his mind with the scent of her hair, the color of her eyes, the shape of her smile. The image of Anna came to him easily, as clear and bright as if she stood before him. He imagined her smiling, as she had been the first time he truly saw her: in only her smalls, hair loose and wild, lust shining bright in blue eyes.

He slid his hand down his body, taking care to stroke the places she had shown him were pleasurable, wondering at the hunger he felt. She had awoken his hunger: he had never before taken himself in hand, not that he could remember. But he could feel his body ache at the memory of her, of what she had done to him and what he had done to her. He remembered how he had lain under her, moaning with pleasure, as her tongue traced each scar on his skin. She had run her tongue over his thighs, back, arms, chest, legs and feet, kissed his hands and trailed wet heat down his back. He wrapped his hand around his hardness and groaned low in his throat as he remembered how it had felt, how she had been both gentle and passionate at the same time. It was almost as if he could feel her mouth on him, and he imagined he felt it where he wanted it the most. He snapped his hips up, stroking faster, and simultaneously pressed his fist to his mouth to keep quiet as he gave in to the demands of his body. He closed his eyes and saw Anna, her hair falling around her head like a golden curtain, lush lips stretched around his cock. The image was enough to send him spiralling over the edge, a cry of her name muffled by his hand. After, he fell back to the bed, exhausted and briefly satisfied, quaking with the force of his release. Suddenly he was exhausted, and he used a piece of the thin blanket to wipe himself off before he fell back on the bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

In the darkness, Danarius opened his eyes and smiled.

 

* * *

 

Listening in on private conversations was usually not the best way to ensure continued health and survival in Magister Danarius’ household, but sometimes you have to do dangerous things in order to help someone else. This was why Fenris was currently squeezed into a dark corner of the grand library and trying to ignore the fact that the majority of his body was cramping, stretching his hearing to the limit in order to hear the conversation held between his master and his guest. The other magister, Lord Harkon, was a tall, gaunt man with cropped grey hair and deep-set eyes that always seemed to burn with some infernal fire. He was a highly talented alchemist, and one of the few people that could almost be called friends by his master, not that a man such as him truly had friends. They were talking about a new invention that Harkon had just created; a potion that would rob the drinker of one or more of their senses for a certain amount of time. Harkon was complaining about the potion’s ineffectiveness, since it was impossible to predetermine which senses, or how many, the victim would lose. Luckily, the effects only lasted a few hours, but it was still frustrating.

“Have you tried using sea salt as a binding agent?” Danarius asked, and they launched into an intense discussion about various methods and ingredients which mostly sounded as complete gibberish to Fenris. He tried to shift as quietly as possible, without drawing attention to himself or lose sight of the small glass vial set on the table next to the men. It held the potion that Harkon had come over to brag about, and Fenris was hoping against hope that it would be left there or in some other place he could swipe it.

 

The reason he wanted to swipe it was that he several days previous had eavesdropped on Hadriana, the master’s beautiful apprentice whose favourite pastime was making him miserable. She and two of her air-headed friends had been talking about the Dog Lord in the Arena, and how the second part of the three-fold challenge was coming up.

“Father said he is going to challenge her senses” Hadriana had said, sounding smug. “I think he will give her the keys, it _is_ traditional after all.”

“Yes” one of his friends, whose name Fenris never could remember but had yellow hair the color and quality of straw, had giggled. “What other challenges will there be?”

“Well, there is the Statue’s Challenge, of course. You can’t have a Challenge of Cunning without the statue.” The other girls twittered their agreement, sounding like demented canaries.

“And the third will be a gorgon. I picked that!” Hadriana had crowed in triumph as she helped herself to more wine.

Really, it was the gorgon that had cinched it for Fenris. He had to find a way to help Anna fight the gorgon. It was a monster of myth and legend, rarely seen these days, but the arena kept a pair for breeding and several more for battle. They were huge half-snake half-man creatures, hideous to see with scales instead of skin and fangs dripping with venom. But the main danger of the gorgon was its gaze. If you for just an instant met the gorgon’s gaze your body would be paralyzed, rendering you helpless to move or defend itself as it fed on you. It would then bite you with its razor sharp fangs, pumping its venom into your body. And then it would feed while the poison turned the organs in your body to liquid, feasting away until there was nothing left of you but an empty husk. And they were setting one of those hideous beasts on his Anna.

 

He had been worrying for nearly a week, half-frantic with his desperation to find a way to help Anna. He knew full well that she would not be told what she would be facing until she stood in the arena, and what guarantee did he have that she had ever even heard of the gorgon? She most likely had not, due to their rarity and the fact that they did not exist in Ferelden anymore, and therefore she would have no chance against it. It would devour her in minutes, and he would be helpless to save her. So, when Harkon had come over and Danarius had demanded he leave them in peace, he had not been able to resist listening in on their conversation in the vague, desperate hope that he would overhear something useful.

 

So, there he was, squatting in a dark corner with legs screaming in protest at the uncomfortable position and an increasing need to sneeze, but being too afraid of discovery to do so. The conversation between Magisters Harkon and Danarius seemed never ending, and honestly it seemed to become more and duller as time went on. Finally, after what must have been an eternity the way Fenris’ muscles were screaming at him, Harkon said something about how late it was and bade his “dear friend” good night.

“Don’t forget your potion” Danarius said and Fenris bit his tongue to keep from calling a protest. If that bottle left the household, he would have no chance whatsoever getting his hands on it.

“Oh, you can keep it. I have plenty.” Harkon said dismissively. It wasn’t the first time he gave Danarius a potion that he was in the process of inventing. With a bit of luck, it would not be Fenris that was required to test it this time. Danarius thanked the other Magister and pocketed the small vial, before walking him to the door. Fenris waited for a full minute after the door had closed behind the two men before standing up slowly on legs screaming in pain. He hobbled out of the room through the servant’s entrance, already plotting how to steal the potion. He had to get his hands on it or Anna would die. And that was unacceptable.

 

* * *

 

 

“So” Magister Harkon said as he put on his cloak and hat, “How was my performance?”

“Excellent, old friend. I give him two hours before he attempts to steal it.” Danarius laughed. It wasn’t a very pleasant sound.

“Two hours? You think he will wait that long?”   
“Oh yes, he wants to make sure I’m feeling safe, and hopefully will have forgotten all about it. You made it to my specifications?”

“Of course. But consider this to be payment in full for that little… favour you did me.”

“Naturally. I would expect nothing less.”

“Very well then, good night Danarius. I trust that no one will know about this. If it gets out that there was cheating…”

“Do not be stupid, Harkon. Of course no one will know… as long as you keep your mouth shut.” He chose not to mention the fact that he had laced Harkon’s goblet with poison to ensure that he would not be able to tell anyone. Dead men don’t talk, not even in Tevinter.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Anna was in the exercise yard, beating the crap out of a wooden dummy, when the quartermaster approached her. He did so cautiously, because he had learnt the hard way to do his best to stay away from Anna while she was practicing. He had two of his best gladiators put in the hospital for doing so, and one of them was never going to swing a sword again. He waited until she took a break to catch her breath, and then he called out to her.

“Hawke!” Anna turned to look at him. She was very pretty, he thought, with her high cheekbones and golden hair. If he had predilections in that way he would probably have been after her. But he preferred his bed partners pretty, young, dark-skinned and male, so therefore Anna did not need to be on her guard in his presence.

“Quartermaster” she nodded curtly as a show of grudging respect.

“You have a visitor” He said. Anna blinked in confusion.

“Who the heck would visit me?” She demanded.

“I don’t know, but he’d be handsome if it weren’t for those nasty scars.” Anna was half-way across the field before he had time to notice her moving.

“Where is he?” She demanded.

“In your quarters. He seemed to be in a rush so if you want a tumble you better hurry up.” She gave him a scathing glare but did not stop to respond, merely hurried into the gladiator area.

 

* * *

Fenris was pacing the tiny room that was Anna’s like a hungry tiger in a cage too small for its bulk, and Anna had to fight the temptation to wind herself around him like a snake around its dinner and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. Well, for a moment or two, at least.

“Hi sexy” she purred, letting her eyes feast on his bare arms. He spun around as if startled, a glow of blue fire surrounding his raised fist. When he saw that it was her, he lowered his hand again and made an impatient gesture.

“Where were you?” He asked, clearly irritated. Anna rolled her eyes.

“Training. Not much else to do here, really. Still two days to go to the second part. I’ll have you know that this ‘wait thirty days between each challenge’-thing is ridiculous.” He ignored her comment, instead he stuck his hand in a well-hidden pocket in his armour. To be fair, she hadn’t know he even _had_ pockets. Finally he managed to pull out a small object and Anna had the pleasure to stare blankly at a small glass vial full with what appeared to be ink. She was not impressed.

“Ink.” She said, dryly. “You give me ink, but neither quill nor parchment. What am I to do with it? Finger-paint on the walls?” The scowl that met her didn’t even make her blink. He was always scowling, sometimes it even made her wonder if that was just the natural shape of his face. But he was great in bed - especially that thing he did with his tongue - and could be quite deadpan and funny, so she could live with the brooding and scowling.  

“It’s a potion” he said, and she smiled encouragingly.

“Very good, Fenris, thank you for stating the obvious. Now let’s try an explanation!”

“Shut up, Anna.” He growled, but Anna just kept grinning. He did that nearly as often as he scowled, and it didn’t faze her at all. Fenris rolled his eyes at her.

“It strips the drinker of one of their senses.”

“That’s nice, babe.”

“You don’t understand. If you drink this before the first battle, it might take your sight.” Anna stared at him like he’d just told her he was going to run off and join the circus.

“Why the blazes would I want to be blind during battle?” She demanded.

“Because you will be facing a gorgon.”

“Bless you” she replied, clearly clueless as to what that meant. Fenris sighed deeply. He had planned to be in and out quickly, before anyone figured out that he had left, but it seemed as if that wasn’t going to happen. Honestly, sometimes this woman was as thick as two bricks. If it wasn’t for the fact that he couldn’t relax anywhere but in her arms, he would have washed his hands of her weeks ago. He leaned against the table, sighed deeply, and set about explaining what a gorgon was and exactly why it was dangerous. About halfway through his admittedly garbled explanation, he realised that Anna wasn’t paying attention. When he demanded to know what she was thinking about, she told him honestly.

“I’m wondering how sturdy that table is. And whether it would hold my weight while you’re having me.” She leered at him in that familiar way that always set his blood on fire. And considering the fact that he was already late returning to the Manor, he might as well nourish that fire. He pulled her close, pressing open mouthed kisses to her sweat-soaked neck.

“Let’s find out” he murmured as his hands found the clasps holding her hauberk closed.

 

* * *

The day that Anna was to face the first part of the Challenge of Cunning came with early spring rain, turning the snow covering Minathrous into a brown sludge that insisted on covering everything, especially boots and trouser legs. By the time they reached the arena, Fenris was absolutely filthy from walking next to his Master’s horse. His feet were freezing in the too thin boots and he was completely exhausted, since he had lain awake the entire previous night fearing that the potion would not work, that it would take something else from Anna than her sight so that she once again would be without protection from the gorgon. And even if it did work and Anna was rendered blind, he had no guarantee that she would manage to fight without being able to see her foe. He hadn’t thought of that when he had stolen the potion, but it made his mind churn with worry and anxiety now. Anna, Anna, his Anna, what if he had just ensured her demise?

He had stopped briefly, and the sudden hard tug on the chain connected to the hated collar around his neck made him lose his footing and he ended up on the ground, covered in the cold sludge. It was humiliating, even more so when several of the _soporati_ walking by to enter the arena laughed at the poor slave on the ground. Danarius gave him a furious glare and yanked hard again, making a low sound of impatience. Fenris crawled to his feet and tried not to glare back. He failed, and when he unblinkingly stared back at his master his eyes were dark with hatred. Danarius just looked amused.

“Let’s go, little Pet. Today will prove amusing, I do think.”

 

* * *

 

Anna stood by the gate, waiting for it to open. The potion was hidden under her leather jerkin, resting against her skin. She didn’t know how long the effect would last, so she wanted to wait until the very last moment before drinking it. She shifted from foot to foot, chewing on her lower lip in trepidation as she waited. The gate would open at high noon to let her in to face the foe of that day. If she won, she would face the second part tomorrow and the third part the day after that. _If she survived._ She touched the place where she’d hidden the vial again, thinking of her reasons to stand here waiting to face a monster out of her nightmares. She had another reason now, a new reason that she wasn’t sure how she felt about. She wanted to tell someone, tell Fenris, but she didn’t dare. Maybe someone would find out, and in the position they were in the less that could be used against them the better. No, she wasn’t going to tell him about the new reason just yet.

“Five minutes, Hawke” the quartermaster said as he came up to stand beside her. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be” Anna said quietly, adjusting the sword strapped to her back. It was heavy, but she was used to carrying a heavy blade. The two-handed sword had been her constant companion since she was old enough to start training, and she could not imagine going into this without such a weapon. Now she just wanted the quartermaster to leave or turn his back for just a moment, just long enough to drain the little vial pressing against her skin. Time ticked by. They waited. Then, the quartermaster spoke again.

“It’s a gorgon” he said, his voice barely audible.

“I know” Anna said. “I… have a… secret weapon.” He looked at her intently for several moments and she wondered if she’d just signed her own death sentence.

“Good. Use it.” She gave him a small, surprised, nervous smile. Then she pulled out the potion that Fenris had given her, uncorked it, and drained it in one gulp. It tasted foul, but potions usually did. Now all she could do was pray that it worked. It was impossible to know with the darkness all around them. Then she heard it; the clanging, grinding noise of the heavy gate rising to let her into the arena. Anna felt suddenly elated; she could feel the sun’s warmth on her face - but all she saw was darkness.

She was blinded.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn’t until Anna entered the arena that she realised the flaw in Fenris’ plan. She couldn’t see where she stepped, couldn’t see her foe - and she couldn’t hear anything but the roaring of the crowd and the disembodied voice she remembered from her last Challenge.

“Welcome, one and all, the Second Part of the Three-fold Challenge! Let the Dog Lord place her life on the line and prove her cunning! Advert your eyes, Lords and Ladies, for our pretty Champion is facing one of the most fascinating creatures ever caught and caged underneath this stage! Here it comes - _THE GORGON!_ ” The cheering from the crowd rose to a cacophony of sound and Anna pulled her sword from its sheath. She had no idea how she was to locate and kill a creature she couldn’t see, but she had to do it. She couldn’t let a small disadvantage such as not being able to see keep her from winning: Fenris depended on her. She would not let him down now. She moved forward slowly, cautiously, trying to listen for her opponent through the noise from the gallery. She remembered a few details from what Fenris had told her before they had confirmed just how sturdy the table was - a snake-like creature, poisonous fangs, sharp claws, eyes that could paralyze its victim to easier eat them alive. Wait that was it. _Snake-like_. Snakes slither. A snake on sand has a special sound that she remembered from the exercise yard that time some idiot had disturbed a nest of black-tongued adders. If she could just tune out the people and listen for the sound of scales slithering over sand… Anna stood still as a statue, sword ready, trying to sharpen her ears as much as humanly possible.

The crowd quieted down, waiting with bated breath for what would happen. The human stood immobile, as if already paralyzed, seemingly undaunted. What was she doing? There were whispers. Someone hollered “she’s a goner!”. A few laughed. The creature that had been released shortly after Anna had entered the arena moved slowly, slithering across the ground towards the woman, thinking it had an easy meal. It was as big as a horse, with the body of a snake and the arms and head of a man. It was completely covered in dark green scales, making it glow like an emerald on yellow silk. It was a predator of the worst kind, and it was heading straight for Anna, who seemed frozen to the spot.

Anna listened. Waited. Prayed. Then she heard the sound; scales rustling through sand. The gorgon. It was approaching slowly, as if cautious, but she could hear it gaining speed. She raised her sword, tried to listen for its location. There! It had to be there! Anna drew a deep breath and braced herself. She waited. The crowd waited. Fenris bit his lip until he tasted blood, praying in desperation to anyone who would listen that the potion had worked. Then everything happened very quickly. The gorgon attacked. Anna swung her sword. There was a screech of pain and black blood on the sand. She had struck well and the sword had found its goal.

Then, suddenly, there was a fury of blows from inhumanly strong scaled arms with razor sharp claws, and a two handed sword flashing in the sunlight. Anna’s hair shone like spun gold as she did battle with the furious, hissing creature completely intent on biting and eating her. She danced like a dervish across the sand, a whirlwind of death and steel. The crowd was frozen in fascination, fear, and anticipation. The silence was deafening; all they could be heard was the gorgon’s shrieks of anger and pain and the cries from Anna whenever it managed to scratch at her skin. Fenris held his breath until he felt dizzy. _Please,_ he begged mentally. _Please, please, please._ Then, what he had been praying for happened. The sword swung through the air one last time and with one elegant gesture Anna severed the gorgon’s head clean of its body. Its dying shriek echoed through the arena, then there was only silence.

The silence lasted only a brief moment, then the gallery exploded. There was cheering, yelling, cursing, singing… and in the middle of the unending din, Fenris whispered just two words, aimed at no one in particular and anyone who listened to his prayers: _Thank you._

 

* * *

 

Anna collapsed on her bunk in exhaustion, ignoring the fact that her wet hair immediately started soaking the pillow. She was done with the whole bloody mess, and never ever ever getting out of bed again. Not even for seriously hot sex with Fenris. Nope. Not even if he did that thing with his tongue for over an hour. One hundred percent done. She blinked up at the ceiling and muttered a curse. Still nothing but darkness. She was almost starting to get a little nervous; how was she supposed to face the next challenge if she couldn’t see? But being who she was, she wasn’t particularly worried. There was really no point in worrying about something she couldn’t do anything about anyways. She stretched a little, feeling her muscles move with great reluctance but without much pain. She was sore, but the bath had done wonders. She thought back on the battle and felt a pang of disappointment; she still had no clue what a gorgon looked like. It would have been fascinating to see such a creature.

A knock on the door pulled her from her musings, and she went to open it.

“Yes?” She said, dismissively, trying to act as if she could see whoever was on the other side. She was taken completely surprise, though, at the voice that came to her.

“Anna.” Her face lit up with happiness.

“Fenris!” Then she was in his arms and she forgot aching muscles and unseeing eyes. His mouth tasted of sand and heat and salt and his hair was soft under her fingers as she pulled him close.

“How long can you stay?” She whispered as he undid the belt holding the robe closed.

“Till dawn” he whispered as he pulled her down onto the thin cot.

Neither of them spoke for quite some time after that.

 

* * *

 

It was late, and in the darkness of Anna’s tiny room there was a sense of safety and comfort that was new, almost frightening. Anna’s slender fingers were tracing the shape of the scars on his chest, but there was no pain connected to the touch. Instead, it felt as if a soothing balm was being rubbed into flesh that had ached for as long as he could remember. He stared up at the ceiling, or where he expected the ceiling to be, and ran his finger through her mussed hair.

“My first memory is pain” he began. Her hand stilled for a moment, then continued moving. “No, agony. An agony I can’t even begin to describe. I remember… I remember my skin being split open, struggling against the bonds holding me, and then… molten heat, like lava, pouring into my veins. It was…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t want to remember. “I don’t know who I was before. I can’t… The memory burned out of me then. With the… with the lyrium.” They laid in silence for several moments. Then he went on, wanting to tell her this even though the words were so difficult to get out. He needed to tell her.

“My master… he gets more power performing spells when I’m present. He can draw power from me. He calls me his… ‘lyrium source’. It hurts. A lot. Like my flesh is on fire.” He waited for her to make some sort of quip or comment, but all that happened was that her arms tightened around him. He continued.

“I can sense… magic. It burns. This ache… its bone deep.” Anna hesitated, then she asked the question burning in her mind.

“Do they always hurt? The scars.” She felt devastated that she had been hurting him all this time, just by putting her hands on his body.

“No… not always. Not… not when you touch them.” He whispered. The silence stretched again, for several minutes. Then, he felt rather than heard her shift her position so that she was half-lying, half-sitting over him. Her hands found his chest and stroked their way down, soon followed by her tongue. It lit a trail of fire down his body, waking his hunger.

“Thank you” she whispered against the soft skin where his thigh met his hip, “for telling me.” Then her mouth found where he really wanted it and he sank back into the mattress with a low moan, letting her do what she pleased. And for once, his lyrium markings did not ache. Instead, it was almost as if they… hummed.

 

* * *

 

When Anna woke the morning of the second battle, the bed was cold and she was alone in darkness. The darkness itself didn’t alarm her; her little room had no window and a sturdy wooden door, so once the candles had been extinguished there was no light whatsoever. She felt around a bit at first, trying to find the man that had lain next to her during the night, but there was no one.

“Fenris?” She called out sweetly, but received no reply. Odd. Slowly she made her way out of bed and felt for the table, the candle, and the little piece of flint she used to light it. She heard the flint spark to life and felt the warmth from the little flame, but she saw nothing. Anna’s blood ran cold. She had lit the candle - but she still saw nothing. She raised her hands to her face in the vain hope that she had a blindfold or a piece of cloth on, but nothing. She felt skin, and when her finger accidentally touched an eyeball it hurt. Still darkness. She called out again, hesitantly this time.

“Fenris?” But there was only silence. Anna started to tremble where she stood, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. She was all alone in the darkness. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to comfort herself and bring some warmth to her suddenly cold body. Her throat felt thick, like she was on the verge of crying. It was disconcerting; she had kept her head through everything she had been through so far, through imprisonment and torture, and never given in to fear or despair. But as she stood there, blinded, cold and alone, she felt wetness slip down her cheeks. Tears. She was crying. What if she never regained her sight? How was she to face the next two tasks without being able to see? Could she even save Fenris now? Save herself? Save their baby? Oh Maker, she hadn’t even told him about the baby. She had lain with him the previous night, given him all her passion, and she had not let on that she couldn’t see him, and much less that she was carrying his child. Anna sank down on to the cot, slowly, wearily, wetness still making its way down her cheeks. She hugged herself tighter.

“Fenris” she whispered, and even to her own ears it sounded broken.

No one answered her.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Anna stood at the entrance to the arena, waiting for the gate to open and let her in to face the second part of the Challenge of Cunning. She had absolutely no idea what to expect, but whatever it was she was scared. Her vision still had not returned, and she was starting to fear that it never would. Oh Maker, what if it never returned? What use was a blind templar? The urge to sit down in a corner and cry was rather overwhelming at this point, and she really really just wanted her brother. Caelan always knew what to do, how to calm her and cheer her up. She needed him there, his arm around her shoulders and his voice in her ear. But he was in Ferelden, probably safely cuddled up in bed with a hot mage that was nearly as skilled as her Fenris. She smiled to herself in the darkness as she thought of him. Her Fenris. Whatever happened, it would be worth it if it was for him. For him she would set the world on fire. The intensity of the feelings she felt for him were frightening, and she knew that if she let them run free they would overwhelm her. So she resolutely pushed them away, focusing on the task that lay ahead. She had to prove herself in the arena and save both Fenris and herself. And their… baby. The child she tried to not think about, even when she hung over the chamber pot and emptied her stomach each morning. She could not afford the distraction, come what may. She had to keep her focus or she would lose. Losing was not an option.

She heard the gate being opened slowly, the creaking whining noise almost familiar at this point. It was, in its own way, comforting: it was time to face the second task, now all she could do was her best and to trust in the Maker to see her through the day. She waited until it stopped grinding, then walked slowly into the arena, trying not to look like she was afraid of what lay ahead. The challenge she had no way of seeing.

 

The crowd cheered when they saw the blonde woman they knew as “Dog Lord”. She stood just inside the gate leading back to the gladiator’s area, as if waiting for something none of them could see. Then the referee spoke, his voice ringing clear and strong across the arena.

“Welcome, Lords and Ladies, to the Arena! On this fine day, we shall see if our pretty champion is as clever as she is lovely - in The Challenge of the Five Gates!” The cheers were almost deafening, as five walls appeared in front of Anna. They were evenly dispersed through the arena, each one with a heavy iron gate waiting to be unlocked to let her through. The exception was the third wall, which had two doors.

 

Anna moved forward slowly, fighting the urge to hold her hands in front of her to feel her way. If she did such a thing she would let on that she had a disadvantage, and not knowing the rules she did not dare to even hint at her not being at her strongest.  She held her head high and walked with confidence, even if she felt none. That’s when she felt it - Fenris. She could feel him, as if he was right beside her, his warmth seeping into her skin and giving her confidence and strength. She smiled. The bond was finally strong enough to work both ways. Anna raised her head and pulled her shoulders back. She was going to show them all.

 

“The first challenge is thus: Four chests stand on the table, and listen well champion to what I say now.” The referee sounded excited, and a hush spread over the arena. Anna focused intently on the voice speaking. “From left to right, each chest has a note on its lid. Only the chest holding the key has the truth written, the others lie. Open the wrong chest, champion, and you will have a pretty face full of acid.” Laughter rang through the arena and Fenris fought the urge to throttle the closest noble. This was no laughing matter. This was Anna’s life on the line.

 

Anna paled. She could not read when her world was darkness. She moved forward hesitantly, feeling the table bump into her hip. She winced in pain, and carefully reached out, touching a chest made of metal. _I have to let my fingers look for me_ , she thought, panicking. _But how can I read with my fingers?_ The lid of the chest had tiny indentations, but they were too shallow to make out. She felt like crying; no matter how long she tried, she would not be able to read the messages.

 

“Lords and Ladies, for those of you who wonder and the riddle that seems to have our dear champion stumped, these are the statements on the chests: The chest on the furthest left says that it holds the key. The chest on the middle left says the one on the middle right holds the key. The chest on the middle right says that the last chest on the right holds the key. The chest on the far right claims that the chest on the middle left speaks the truth.” Anna smiled. The referee had just told her what she herself could not find out. Now she had to think, and think quickly. _If only one chest is telling the truth,_ she thought, _then it’s easy. Four says it's in Two, but Two says Three, so Four is lying. If Four is lying, Three is lying too. And if Three is a lie, then Two is a lie as well. The key is in the chest on the far left._ Anna drew a deep breath, sent a quick prayer that she was right, and cautiously opened the lid on the chest she was sure was the right one. Nothing happened. No pain, no smell of melting flesh. She reached into the chest and her hand closed around a metal object. The key.

 

Fenris, standing next to his master in the latter's’ private booth, sighed with relief. She’d solved the first puzzle, and now she was walking through the first gate. The crowd cheered. He felt a slight tightening in the chain around his neck, the only sign of Danarius’ displeasure.  

 

* * *

“Lords and Ladies” the referee called, and Anna listened carefully to his voice. With any luck, he would tell the crowd - and her - what was expected of her in order to get through the second gate. “In front of our champion is a raised stand with a frame, holding the key. It is suspended by multiple threads, and it must be released from the frame in order to unlock the gate. To her aid she has a bow and a single arrow. Let's see how clever she is!” Anna thought about it. One arrow? She moved forward carefully, stumbling over the bow on the ground. She leant down, found the arrow, and picked it up. When she did so, she cut her finger on the edge and winced in pain. Putting the digit in her mouth to stop the blood flow, she tried to think of how to get the key.

“Lords and Ladies! The champion seems to be quite stumped!” the referee called, sounding smug.

Anna frowned, trying to think. She couldn’t shoot the arrow for obvious reasons; it could end up anywhere and then she was pretty much done for. The wound on her finger ached and she cursed mentally at the idiocy of giving her something so sharp. Then she started to smile around her finger. Sharp. Of course. It was obvious. Wouldn’t Caelan be proud of her for proving to be nearly as clever as him?

“Oh, now it seems our champion has an idea!” she heard somewhere over her head. “She is moving towards the stand now, with the arrow. We all wonder why she ignores the bow! It is the obvious answer! But no, she is ignoring the bow, Lords and Ladies! She is - spirits, I can barely believe it! She is using the arrow’s edge to cut of the threads!” Fenris craned his neck, trying to see, but the woman in the arena was too small from this distance for him to see what she was doing. Instead he focused on her. He could sense her; something troubled her deeply, but he had no idea what that was. She wouldn’t let him know. All he could do was reinforce his belief in her.

Anna giggled to herself when she took the key and unlocked the second gate. She could sense Fenris’ complete belief in her, and it made her nearly giddy with happiness. It made her believe in herself, that she could really do this.

 

* * *

 

“Lords and Ladies!” The referee called. “Our champion is now faced with two doors with a small table between them. On the table lies a key that opens both gates. However: behind one is the way forward, behind the other hides a spike pit. One speaks the truth, one always lies. They are not necessarily the same door, and your champion has no way of seeing which is which. She may ask one of the doors one question, anything else they will not answer. She may ask whichever question she wishes, to whichever door she chooses. But only one. Have no fear, Lords and Ladies, you will be able to clearly hear her!”

Anna thought frantically. The riddle of the two doors was an old riddle that she had heard before back home in Lothering, and she remembered several of the farmers and guards failing to solve it. It had been a great source of frustration to all of them for several days, and she could vaguely remember Caelan solving it with a superior smirk. He had been seventeen, tall and gangly and smug. But what was it he had said? It had been a question, a question was required. Oh, if she could only remember! She concentrated until she felt a headache coming on, trying to get hold of the memory. She _had_ to remember what Caelan had said: if she didn’t, she was dead. Or at least badly hurt. And more importantly - she would have failed her quest. Anna rubbed at her aching eyes. The ache had come only recently, as she passed the second gate to be precise, but it seemed to be increasing. She hoped against hope that it meant her sight was returning, but all she saw at the present was darkness. The ache made it harder to think, but she had to. What had he asked? She thought back to that day. They had been washing clothes down by the river, and she had told him about it. The sun had been beating down on their heads, her back had ached, and they had been singing silly little songs all morning as was their wont. She had told him the riddle… he had laughed and splashed her with the cold river water, making her shriek in protest… and he had said… what had he said?

_“That's easy!” The boy standing in the river with the water reaching about mid-thigh as he soaked their mother’s best dress laughed. His eyes shone with mirth in that way that made the girls in the village sigh longingly._

_“No it isn’t!” Anna protested. Not even the Reverend Mother knows!”_

_Her brother wrung the water from mother’s dress and passed it to her for scrubbing against the sharp rocks._

_“Only one question, huh? Obviously, you have to choose one of the doors, which doesn’t matter, and ask it…”_

“What would the other door say, if I him asked which one of you leads to the next gate?” Anna’s voice rang through the arena, as she addressed one of the doors. There was a moment of silence as the door mulled over her question, then it spoke.

“That it was me.” It said.

“Thank you!” Anna said brightly, turned to the other door, and inserted the key. It clicked open - and she stepped through onto the sand that composed the floor.

“The champion has successfully passed the third gate!” The referee called over the cheers from the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Anna carefully ran her fingers over the wooden table she had once again managed to bump into. Same place as before, too. Her hip throbbed and she would most likely have a spectacular bruise later. Her fingers touched on several small pieces of metal, and it took a moment or two for her to realise that she was touching keys. Multiple keys. Okay, so obviously one of them would open the gate - but how was she to figure out which one? She waited for the referee to speak, maybe he would give her some clue.

“Your champion clearly already has discovered the Fourth Riddle! On the table in front of her lies nine identical keys, but only one of them opens the Gate. She must find the one that weighs less than the others - but she must do so in only four attempts! We will count them carefully. Now, Lords and Ladies, let us see how the pretty Dog Lord solves this puzzle!”

Anna stood still, thinking. _Process of Elimination, Ahn,_ she told herself. _How do I eliminate as many keys as possible in the first weigh-in?_ Then she smiled to herself and quickly divided the keys into three piles of three. She placed the first and the second pile on the scales, and then carefully, carefully so as not to shift the weight, felt along the arms of the scale. They were equal, suggesting that the weight was the same on both sides. Brilliant, six keys eliminated in one go! She removed the keys, put them to the side and felt for the last three. Putting one key on each side of the scales, she touched them carefully again. Then she could not resist beaming with pride at her own cleverness; one key was lighter than the other. She took the key and felt her way over to the gate. The lock clicked as she turned the key - and she was through! The cheering of the gallery was a mere whisper to the feeling of pleasure and pride she picked up from Fenris, somewhere high above her head.

“The Dog Lord has completed the Fourth Puzzle!” The referee yelled, sounding as excited as the people.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Anna waited for the cheering to die down and the referee to start speaking, standing still and quiet just inside the door. Having no idea what lay ahead of her, it was safest to simply wait. The noise seemed to go on for hours, but finally it died down and she could hear the referee, sounding nearly breathless with excitement.

“Lords and Ladies!” He yowled, “This is the Fifth Puzzle! The Dog Lord has faced four puzzles without hesitation or fear, she is as bright as a star this one! But let us see how clever she is when she can no longer rely on her eyes!” Anna snorted. She had been unable to rely on her eyes all day.

“The stone tiles that stretch in front of our pretty Champion are, when you look at them, identical - but some are safe to tread on, some carry traps! A grid of ten times fifteen, and no way of seeing the safe way across! Let the puzzle be set, let the champion loose - one misstep and they will be wiping her off the walls!” The crowd laughed and cheered and roared, but Anna ignored them. Identical tiles, the referee had said - but also that she had no way to _see_ the way across. Therefore there had to be some other way to find it. If sight was useless, well. She had four more senses. Anna leaned down and unlaced her leather boots, carefully removing them and the thin socks she wore beneath. Her bare feet immediately sunk into the warm sand, and she started moving forward slowly, not knowing where the tiles began. She moved carefully, step by step, and suddenly she stubbed her toe on something hard. She muttered a curse and winced in pain. A tile, she had found a tile. She raised her foot slowly, careful not to place any weight on it since it could be booby trapped, then carefully felt it. It had some sort of pattern on it, but she could not make out what it was. Swirls and circles. She stepped back and walked slowly to the left, letting one foot drag along the line of stone. When she felt a small gap, she realised she had found a new tile. Slowly she ran her bare foot over the surface, feeling the same pattern. She continued down the line, checking tile by tile until she felt only sand next to her foot. Then she turned, and repeating the process she walked all the way back beside the stones, now dragging the other foot alongside the stones. She could hear the crowd chattering amongst themselves but paid them no mind. She checked each tile carefully, until she reached the last one in the row. There she stopped, frowning, before hunching down to touch it with her bare hands. No, her feet were right. It was smooth. All the others had a pattern she could feel under her feet, this one was smooth. She hesitated, bit her lip, and took the plunge. She stood up and stepped onto the tile, letting all her body weight rest on it. She held her breath waiting for an explosion. It didn’t come.

Anna beamed with happiness. She had solved the Puzzle: the safe tiles were smooth. The booby trapped ones were indented. She hunched down again, reaching out and carefully touching the tile directly in front of her. Indented. Not safe. She tested the one next to it. Smooth. She carefully shifted her body weight on to it. Nothing happened this time either. She _had_ really figured out the secret! Full of new determination, Anna started moving across the tiles, feeling her way with careful hands.

 

Fenris held his breath as he saw Anna step onto the first tile. He expected it to go off at any second. She stood there, the sun shining on her hair, and the entire gallery held their collective breaths. When a full minute had passed he let out the breath he had been holding. Anna had moved to the second tile now, after carefully having ran her hands over the two in front of her. Clearly, she had discovered some way of discerning which tiles were safe and which were not. She moved with confidence now, unhesitant but careful. Danarius growled with annoyance next to him, his grip tightening on the chain wrapped around Fenris’ neck tightening until he struggled to breathe. Spots appeared before his eyes and his head swam. He wanted to see Anna, wanted to watch her and see her complete the challenge, but his lungs were screaming for air and his vision was whiting out. He clawed at the chain, wheezing. Just as he was about to lose consciousness the pressure around his neck released a little, just enough for him to draw a shaking breath. He leaned against his master’s high backed chair and blinked rapidly to make the spots disappear. Then he turned his head to look at Anna. She was more than halfway across now, just as careful as before. The sun shone on her golden hair as she hunched down to feel her way across the tiles, and an unbidden thought slipped through his mind. _Spirits, I think I love her._ He made a little noise of shock, hoping against hope that Danarius had not noticed. But the way that the Magister turned his head and gave him a truly devilish smile, told him clearly that he had.

 

* * *

 

Anna laid awake long after Fenris had fallen asleep that night, wishing she could see the rocks that composed the ceiling in her little chamber. But there was only darkness, and she sent another desperate prayer to the Maker to give her back her eyes. She rested her hand on her stomach, still flat and muscled, and wondered if she should tell Fenris about the life growing in there. She wanted to tell him, but if she said the words out loud they could be overheard and that could be dangerous. She wondered what the consequences could be: would a pregnant woman even be allowed to fight? And if she couldn’t fight, then what would become of Fenris and herself, if she was not allowed to compete for their freedom? She had vowed to set him free and take him with her far from this place, and if it cost her her life she would do so. She adjusted her position slightly, pressing closer to the sleeping man. She let her fingers run over his face, feeling her heart swell. He was so beautiful like this, almost peaceful. Not fully, of course, he was too wary and careful to ever relax fully, but when he slept in her embrace it was as if he trusted her to keep him safe. She knew, from the glimpses she had seen of his soul, just how difficult it was for him to trust anyone. That he trusted her made her feel both humbled and elated. And now his child was resting under her heart, just a spark of life yet but undeniably there. She thought back on the day’s events, and once again thanked the Maker for guarding her and her unborn. She knew full well that each time she stepped into the arena she put both herself and the little one at risk, but what else could she do? This was her only chance. Their only chance.

“What are you thinking of?” His voice, sleep-muddled, concerned.

“Nothing” Anna whispered, snuggling closer. “That I love you.” She held her breath; those words had not been spoken between them before, and it was a bit frightening to voice them. She felt him shift, arms tightening around her waist. His lips touched her hair.

“Anna” he whispered, his voice barely audible. It was all he said, but she didn’t need anything else. Those two syllables said everything: that they would be alright, that she would succeed with the third task, that whatever came later they would face together and come out victorious. She felt his feelings for her each time he touched her, they were in every glance, every touch, and every word he spoke. She didn’t need to hear the words; it would be nice to hear them eventually, but they weren’t needed. He was hers, and she was his. And when the time was right, she was going to tell him all that was in her heart. Once they were safe, she was going to hold him to her heart and tell him that he was her purpose, what she breathed for. That he was her song and her dance, her night and her morning, her hope and her whole heart. But not now, not when words were dangerous, words could be overheard and become weapons. Once they were safe, she would tell him everything, including their baby.

 

* * *

 

Anna moved slowly towards the centre of the arena and cursed herself for not having told anyone that she couldn't see her own hand in front of her. But that was pride for you, it seemed like a good thing until you were in over your head and there was no one to help you. Providing that you were still capable to ask for help. She had no clue what she was supposed to do or where to go, so she just kept moving forward hoping she was going in the right direction. She got confirmation when she for the fourth time walked straight into a table. Of course it was with the bruised hip first and she whimpered, feeling both sorry and stupid. She carefully felt her way across the table, noting that it was filled with a jumble of items. There was a small hand mirror, a bowl, a skull she really hoped was ancient, a few mushrooms, a compass and a pair of child’s shoes. And that was only what she managed to identify. There were other things, too, but she had no clue what they were. Then the referee spoke.

“Welcome, Lords and Ladies, to the Third Task of the Second Part of the Three-Fold Challenge, issued by Magister Danarius to Anna Hawke, the Fereldan Dog Lord!” The gallery cheered. Anna smiled to herself; she was proving popular. She just hoped that the popularity would last when she had won freedom for herself and Fenris. “Today, she faces the Avatar of Wisdom!” The what? “It will ask her a series of questions, and she must place the correct item in its outstretched hand! If she places the wrong item, a bolt of storm magic will strike her!” Anna paled. Oh help, now she was in for it. She turned and walked slowly forward, feeling for the Avatar. Her hand touched cold stone, and she realised that it was a statue. Right. Put the correct item in the statue’s hand and don’t get singed. Easy. In theory, at least. She waited for the first riddle and wondered if the statue would be heard in the entire arena or not.

She got her answer when a voice, gravelly like the grind of stone on stone in a mill, spoke loud enough to be heard even at the top of the arena, at the poor seats.

“It has a head. It has a tail. Yet it has no body.” The statue said, and Anna scrambled back to the table, frantically rifling through the items. Then she stopped, annoyed at herself. _Figure out what you are looking for first, stupid!_ She admonished herself, and felt a trickle of laughter from Fenris. Then she thought of what the statue had said. It has a head and a tail but no body. She ran her hands over the items more slowly this time. Then her fingers closed around something small, round and thin. It was smooth but slightly indented. She held it in her hand, touching it carefully. What was it she was holding? Then she smiled. She knew. She turned and walked back to the statue, placing the item in the statue’s outstretched hand.

“You have chosen the coin.” The gravelly voice said. There was a brief pause and Anna wondered if she was about to go _bzzzzzt!_. “You are correct.” The statue went on and Anna breathed a sigh of relief as applause ran down from the gallery to her ears.

“At night it comes without being fetched, at day it is gone without being stolen.”

 

Fenris watched as Anna searched for the correct item amongst the jumble of things on the table. There was something about the way she moved that made him wonder. Something was just a bit off. It had been yesterday too, but he couldn’t put his finger on what that was. He felt relieved when she placed the correct item - a wooden star - in the statue’s hand and it disappeared in a flash of yellow light. So far she was safe. He kept staring at her intently, watching as she searched for an item that “has two heads but no body. The more it stands still, the faster it runs”, that he suddenly understood. Anna wasn’t looking at the items. She was touching them. His blood ran cold. She didn’t look at the items - _because she couldn’t see them._


	11. Chapter 11

Anna's footsteps were slow and heavy when she returned to her room that night. An air of exhaustion and defeat hung around her, even though throughout the city people drank in her honour. She should feel ecstatic, but all she felt was tired. She wanted to go home to Ferelden, to just pack up and leave with her mage and her child and never set foot in this blasted country again. She had barely closed the door behind her before a voice cut through the darkness, taking her completely by surprise.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Fenris demanded, sounding hurt and furious.

"Tell you what?" there was a thumping noise as if he had just slammed his fist down on the table.

“What do you think?” he yelled.

“I don’t know.” Anna made a desperate play for time.

“That you CAN’T SEE!” She flinched as his voice struck her like a battering ram.

“Please don't yell” she begged, feeling a headache coming on.

“I yell as much as I damn well please!” he hollered back. “When were you going to tell me that you’re blind?”

“I don’t know!” Anna screamed back, “When the time was right!”

“And you didn’t think it was before you faced the challenge of the keys? You could have been killed!” He sounded both angry and hurt, something that was unbearable to her.

“But I wasn’t! It was fine!” Her voice sounded shrill, desperate, even to her own ears. She wanted to grab him, hold him there, and cling to him like a desperate limpet. But that was impossible since she could not discern where he was.

“You lied to me!” Fenris fumed.

“I didn’t lie! You never asked!”

“So now it’s all my fault?”

“I didn’t say that! But it was you who gave me the potion!” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. There was complete and utter silence. Then the silence was broken by the most horrifying sound Anna had heard in her whole life. She heard the door opening, and the shuffle of bare feet on the floor. Then the door closed with a soft click that was more final than any slam could ever have been.

“Fenris?” Anna begged. “Fenris, I’m sorry, please don’t go.” But he was already gone. Anna sank down on the thin cot, weary to the bone, her sightless eyes still wide and pleading. She laid down on her side and pulled a pillow into her arms. She licked her lips, and tasted salt and ashes. Ashes like the end of something beautiful. Salt like the tears slipping without permission down her cheeks.

 

* * *

No sooner had the door closed behind him before Fenris regretted his harsh words, wanting to run back inside and take her into his arms and make sure that she was okay. He had been completely terrified all through the Third Task, after he’d realised that she had no way of seeing the items the statue demanded. However, pride is one of the most dangerous demons in the Fade and now it kept him from going back. Instead, he straightened his back, squared his shoulders and marched down the corridor, through the door and into the late spring night. It was chilly, but he was used to a slight chill. Huddling up to protect himself as much as possible, he hurried through the darkened city, avoiding the groups of drunks and day labourers, ignoring the whores and thieves. All the way back to the Manor he thought of Anna, who was putting her life on the line for his sake. His Anna, whom he had yelled at when he should have comforted. Accused when he should have supported. The urge to go back was strong, but he resolutely pushed it down. If Danarius found out where he had been, and that he had been there regularly since she was taken, well… it would not bode well for neither him nor Anna. The magister was a cruel man, something he knew better than any other. As he hurried home through the dark streets, hoping against hope that his little sojourn had not been discovered, he could not help but imagine his Anna at the mercy of his Master. The thought was enough to make his blood run cold and rage unlike anything he had known in his life boil in his veins. That was when it happened: his tightly clenched fists burst into blue light.

 

Fenris stopped cold, staring at his hands who were still shining brightly. It did not feel the least bit painful, instead he only felt powerful. As if he could take on the entire city and win, and lie with a beautiful Fereldan woman on top of the smouldering bodies. If he had been able to see himself, he would have seen that every scar on his body glowed with the same blue light that came from his hands, power crackling in the air around him like a thunderstorm about to erupt. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the blue light vanished and left him exhausted, weary to the bone, and with a feeling as if every single scar ached nearly as badly as after he had received them. For a long time he stood still on the street, fearing that whatever it was would return. Perhaps it was the magic Anna kept on insisting was within him. He had no idea, nor did he know how to handle it; wanted to ask Anna, she was a templar, surely she knew? But he could not: that would mean returning to the arena, swallowing his pride and asking her forgiveness. And he was not ready for that just yet. Instead, he pulled his tatty cloak tighter around his shoulders and hurried on towards home, resolutely pushing any thoughts of Anna or blue light or new and strange abilities as far from his mind as he could. It was safer that way.

 

* * *

Fenris’ entire body jerked from pain, his mouth filling with blood from biting his tongue both to keep from screaming and as a result of his entire being writhing and shaking as Danarius shocked him over and over again, a look of twisted pleasure and ice-cold fury on his face. He had lost any track of time and his surroundings, not knowing how long this had been going on and not caring. He hung suspended from his arms in the middle of the cold dungeon, as he had from the moment he came home after having seen Anna and been met by a furious Hadriana.

 

_“What did she do to you that I didn’t?” Hadriana shrieked._

_“Gave me pleasure.” her hand struck his cheek so hard and so unexpectedly that his head snapped back. He tasted blood, but refused to back down. He knew now what it was like to feel pleasure from another’s touch; to actually want to have sex._

_“That filthy dog lord, how could you find pleasure rutting with her when I let you love me?” she demanded, petulant like a child._

_“You know nothing about love. Nothing at all. Anna taught me-” she slapped him again, harder this time._

_“Shut up, you piece of shit! MASTER!” Danarius had entered the hall, frowning._

_“What is the matter?”_

_“He insulted me! I want him punished!” Hadriana shrieked, sounding even more like a petulant child than before. She even stomped her foot for good measure._

_“Calm down, child. I need to have a… word with our dear wolf. In private.”_

 

After that, time had passed in a haze of pain. First, there had been the whip, coming down on his back over and over again until there was little left but bloody ribbons. He had screamed; screamed until his voice was hoarse, but he had refused to beg. Anna had taught him to stand proud even against immeasurable odds, and he would be like her. He would not bend to this twisted bastard. Then had come the staff, first beating his aching body until he was covered in bruises, then the magic. It always ended with magic. There were fire spells burning his feet until they turned black and blistered, skin cracking and falling off. Ice spells, freezing his fingers until they were unable to move and starting to turn blue. Shock spells making his entire body jerk and writhe in agony. It was never taken beyond his endurance, however, ensuring that his master got his pleasure without actually killing him. Then, after the magister had satisfied himself causing pain, the worst part would come as the man untied the chains and Fenris fell to the floor, his body screaming in protest as his bruised knees hit the stone. He knew, however, what was expected of him and leaned forward, bracing himself on his aching arms. If he appeared compliant, perhaps it would be over quickly and he could go convince one of his master’s apprentices to give him some basic healing, at least for his burnt feet and frozen fingers. He closed his ears to the noises from behind him as his master took what belonged to him. His mind hid itself deep inside, to protect itself from the horror around him, the pain burning inside. Strange, it felt as if… as if his mind rested in Anna’s arms. As if, somehow, she was cradling him, shielding him. Loving him, even now.

 

* * *

Anna laid on her tiny cot and cried, her body trembling from exhaustion and despair as phantom pain shot through her body. The bond was even stronger now, strong enough to let her feel Fenris’ pain. His fear and despair coursed through his body, and she felt the abuse as if it was her own body suffering instead of his. Her body shook as his was run through with magic, her feet blistered as his were burnt. She felt as if she was ripped apart when the animal that still owned him, owned them both, forced him to- she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see. But there she was, like a mute helpless witness that had no eyelids to close. Finally it was over, and she felt exhausted as if she had battled a dozen demons at once. Her mind reached out for her mage, found him, and wrapped itself around his in a mental embrace that soothed her as much as it soothed him.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered, like the slightest of breezes.

‘I know. I love you.’ she sent back, pulling him in and rocking him like warm, gentle waters. She felt him tremble as he sank into her, becoming one with her, his soul safe within hers.

‘I will protect you’ she vowed. ‘Trust in me.’ There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, then it came, gossamer soft:

‘I trust you.’

And in the darkness, Anna wrapped her arms around her knees and smiled. They would make it.

 


	12. Chapter 12

It had been a long time since he had last seen Anna when he slowly walked the dark path under the arena, the path leading to the chambers where the gladiators slept, ate, and did whatever else they did when they were not training. He did not know how many days had passed due to having lain delirious for a period of time after his punishment had ended. He vaguely remembered a weary-eyed servant girl caring for his wounds and feeding him, but could not recall her face. It didn't really matter anyway, she was just another slave. She was going to die alone and forgotten, just like so many others before her. Like so many that would come after her. But her hands had been gentle and caring, and they had almost reminded him of Anna’s. But she hadn’t been Anna, and he needed her. That was why he was here, knowing full well the pain that would follow when Danarius realised that he had gone against his rules once again. He nodded briefly at the quartermaster, but did not stop to address the man. He had already checked the training rooms and not seen Anna there. He knocked carefully on the door that was hers, waiting. It took long enough for him to worry that he had the wrong room before she opened the door, a sliver of darkness and a hint of golden hair. He breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes focused on him. She could see. Thank the gods she could see! When she saw it was him, she opened the door a little more so that he could come inside.

He looked at her carefully in the light of the solitary candle. She looked sick, weary, as if she had been ill and was wondering whether more of her stomach contents were about to become reintroduced to her mouth. She tried to smile at him, but it was wan and slightly shaky. As he wrapped his arms around her, he could feel her tremble slightly. He pressed his nose into her hair and smelled sweat, sand and a hint of flowers.

“When did the spell end?” He asked, quiet so as not to break the spell that lay over the room; did not want another fight, too grateful and relieved that she had seen him, that there had once again been light in her eyes.

“Nearly six days ago” her voice was whisper-soft as her arms came around him. Her skin felt clammy. His hold tightened. She must have been petrified, all alone in the dark.

“How long have you been ill?” He pressed on, fearing not only for her health but for her life. If she was sick - how was she supposed to face the last challenge, merely days away?

“I’m not ill” she whispered back. He lifted his head and looked in her eyes, searchingly. She did not seem to be lying.

“What is wrong, then?” He asked, a demanding tone in his voice. Anna looked away, briefly, but then her eyes returned to his and there was a newfound strength, a note he had never heard before.

“I’m pregnant, Fenris.” She said.

His eyes drew to her stomach, still flat. Pregnant. His child, growing in there. His blood ran cold. She still had to face the last challenge. With his child growing inside her.

Anna's lips touched his cheek, briefly. They were dry and chafed, but still felt soft.

“It’s going to be okay” she whispered, sensing his fear.

He believed her.

 

Fenris lay awake, many hours later, and ran his fingers over the soft skin of the woman sleeping beside him. The candle had burned down long ago, but he was reluctant to leave her warm embrace even for the short amount of time it would take him to light a new one from the pile on the table. Instead, he lay in the darkness and imagined her belly swollen and stretched around their child, how it would be to feel it kick his hand as he stroked the taut skin. It was impossible; his mind shied away from it. Would not, could not comprehend it. He, the magister’s slave and favourite pet, was to be a father. If she won. She had to win. This was bigger than him now; she had come to Tevinter to win his freedom, but the child was bigger than that. He would give anything to protect them. Even his freedom. He pulled Anna close, ignoring the muttered protest since she immediately adjusted and placed her head in his chest. She belong there; he knew that now, without question. She was his world. She, and their baby.

“I love you” he whispered into her golden hair. “Both of you.” He swallowed hard.

“Spirits help us all.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You don’t understand!” the quartermaster screamed, voice shrill with panic as Anna strode towards the entrance to the arena. “It’s a dragon! The last battle of the three-fold challenge is _always_ a dragon! And so far no one has won!”

Anna’s face was hard as stone, her back ramrod straight.

“I will win” she said with the conviction of a saint walking to the pyre. “I will win. I must win.” She turned to the gate that would let her into the arena. Her knees felt weak, but she straightened her back, adjusted her shield and gripped her sword tighter. She had no choice but to win: otherwise she would be killed, and she and Fenris would never have what they deserved to have. Freedom. Each other. Their child. She tried to cheer herself up with an old game she used to play with Caelan when they were little.

“Sometimes” she said to herself, “I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Count them, Anna.” She drew a deep breath. “One: There are children who do not dream. Two: I was born to be a templar. Three: Mages and templars are a union made by the Maker.” The gate opened and she walked into the arena. “Four: Female templars are barren yet I bear a child. Five: Fenris is mine and I am his. Six: I can slay a dragon.” The roaring of the crowd as she stood before them was a mere whisper to the roaring in her ears; her heart was racing with fear and her blood pumping fast and hard in her veins. She raised her shield and readied her sword. She heard the cry of the dragon as it was released from its prison and turned her face up to see it come. It was hell and death and fire sweeping towards her on giant red wings but Anna stood unafraid, waiting. She had one chance, and one chance only, to save them all. The dragon opened it fearsome mouth and roared, showing its fearsome teeth as it dove towards its opponent. Anna braced herself for the impact. High above her head, Fenris closed the eye that was not swollen shut and prayed.

 

The arena floor shook from the impact as the dragon landed about seven feet from where Anna stood but she managed to stay upright. For a horrifying moment, their eyes met. Beast and woman saw and measured each other and there was silence. Then the dragon roared. Anna let out a battle cry that rose from the depths of her soul and charged.

 

Fenris forced himself to watch the horrifying battle. The woman was so tiny in comparison to the foe coming at her that she was barely visible in the grand arena. Yet she was there; swinging her sword, raising her shield, always just out of the fiend’s reach. It almost looked like she was dancing with it, swirling and stabbing, cutting and parrying with movements as graceful as they were deadly. This was the ninth time he saw her in action in the arena, and it would be the last. And as he stood, helpless by his master’s side, his hands bound and a chain around his neck, all he could do was pray to gods he had not believed in for many, many years that she would be spared. That she would live. She was his only hope to ever regain his freedom. She, and the child that grew in her womb.

 

The sweat was pouring down Anna's face and her shield arm shook with the effort to hold the heavy shield that was her only protection. Her only encouragement was that the dragon seemed to be tiring, too: the swipes of its devastating claws and swings of its majestic tail seemed to become slower, not as powerful. It was, however, also becoming angrier, its fire attack coming more often. Anna danced just out of its reach, attacking what she could reach. She circled the beast, trying to always stay ahead of its head while simultaneously staying out of reach of the tail. The sand beneath her feet was sticky with dragon blood and her leg ached horribly from where the tail had struck; most likely something had broken. She forced herself to ignore the pain and focus on her child. She had to win this battle. She _had_ to win.

 

That was when she saw her chance; the dragon whipped its head back to breathe fire down over her and Anna did not hesitate. She ran forward, eyes fixed on the vulnerable skin of the dragon's chest. She threw her shield away and took her sword in both hands. Then, with all her strength, she thrust her sword into the dragon's chest. The beast howled in agony. Anna pulled her sword out and thrust again and again, each thrust making the dragon howl at it scrambled to get to the woman beneath its heavy bulk. Then a shudder ran through the beast and the back legs gave out. Anna, realising that she was about to be crushed, let go of the sword and ran for her life, managing to get out just in time. The dragon fell, the ground shaking from the weight. Then there was silence. Anna's legs gave out and she fell to her knees, impossibly sad at the death of this magnificent creature.

 

The dying dragon raised its head one last time, staring with hatred at the human who had bested it. There was still a little flame left in its belly, and it drew a deep hacking breath. Then it angled its head just so. It opened its maw, and breathed out a strain of red-hot flames. The fire engulfed Anna within seconds, turning her from a victor into a living torch.

 


	13. Chapter 13

No matter how much time that passed, Fenris would never be able to tell you what happened immediately after the flames engulfed Anna. The horror of the sight erased all memory from his mind apart from just that: Anna burning. It was an image that was to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. How much time that passed, he would not be able to tell you either for he came back to himself sitting on an uncomfortable foot stool by a bed in the arena infirmary, staring in horror and despair at the bandaged body lying in it. She looked like a mummy, swathed in bandages from head to toe. He wanted to hold her hand, but did not dare for fear of hurting her. How she could possibly still be alive, he didn’t know. But there she was; still breathing. The healers held her in a magical coma, and the healing sessions were around the clock. Even her mind was silent; he could sense the bond aching with grief and pain between them, but he could not hear her thoughts. He ignored the healers as they came and went, unaware of the healing magic pouring into Anna as much as they dared. All he knew was that she hung between life and death, her golden hair burned away, her skin black and cracked. He dared not close his eyes, for all he saw was fire. He did not know how bad the damage was, as he did not recall seeing her before she was covered in gauze and he was too focused on the slow rising and lowering of her chest, but with every breath she took his heart stuttered with fear that it would be her last. His eyes burned with tears he was too stubborn to let fall, as he stared at the remains of his templar. She looked so small, so helpless, in that bed. And he could do nothing to help her. What sort of mage was he, he thought, furious at himself. What sort of mage was he, who could not ease his templar’s suffering? The skin on his hands tingled. He looked down, and saw to his shock that they were glowing with blue light like that night on the street. A light he had not seen since then. He looked at Anna, then back at his hands, then at Anna again. She had told him he was a mage. He had a mental bond with a templar, had lost his heart to her laughing eyes, his soul was ensnared in her golden hair. He was her mage. And here was his power, glowing as brightly as any light. And for once, he did not hate it, did not want it gone. Did not wish he had never received it. Maybe, he could use it to help Anna. His Anna, who lay still and lifeless, wrapped in so many cloths and bandages it looked like she was wrapped in a shroud. As if she was already dead.

 

He stood up slowly, reaching out to touch her with a shining hand. The tingle in his skin became a throbbing ache, and he laid his hand on her bandaged arm. He had no idea what to do or what to expect, but the humming sound that filled his ears still shocked him. The light grew in intensity until he had to close his eyes, and in his mind he saw Anna as she had been the first time he had seen her. Laughing, teasing, tempting, beautiful and irresistible. He wanted that Anna back. Wanted his Anna, their child, the freedom she had won them when she slew the dragon. If he had been aware of anything but the image in his mind and the throbbing in his hands, he would have seen the bright blue light engulfing Anna from head to toe like the fire had, slowly but surely sinking into her body and making it shake and writhe from the torrent of magic that swept through it, that healed bones and mended flesh. He could not hear Anna's screams of agony as cracked, burned skin gave way to new, pink skin and hair grew from a scalp that mere minutes before had been so badly burned the healers feared for the state of her skull. All he was aware of was that he wanted _his_ Anna back. He poured everything he had into that desperate wish, and as his legs gave out on him and he sank into exhausted unconsciousness, far away he could hear the giggling of an infant.

 

* * *

 

The healers crowded into the room, whispering amongst themselves in confusion and awe.

“A spirit healer” one whispered, “he is a spirit healer.”

“Powerful, too powerful. Check the patient.”

“Get a stretcher.”

“What if he is burned out?”

“Then he will be useless.”

“Look! Look at her skin!”

“Is that… hair?”

“Deep tissue?”

“No damage. Lungs working. Heart beating. Womb… mostly repaired. Amazing.”

“Lasting damage though, even with a spirit healing.”

“How?”

“They say love-”

“Don’t be silly, he is an elf. And a slave.”

“But still…”

“Where is that blasted stretcher?”

Fenris was unaware, sprawled on the floor in a state of so severe exhaustion he would not have been able to rise even if a dragon had set him alight. And Anna? Anna slept. And healed.

 

* * *

 

 

Time passes differently in the fade, hours seem to be mere minutes and days crawl by like years. Anna didn't know how long she had wandered in this red mist, where she was or how to get back. All she knew was that with each step her feet felt lighter and the pain increased. There was no path, no way of discerning if she was heading in the right direction, the wrong direction or just plain walking in circles. The mist was all around her and it did not thin nor thicken no matter how far she walked. She felt as if she had walked for an eternity that had passed in just a few seconds, and she wished more than ever she could just wake up. She tried to sense Fenris but the bond that had been so bright between them was frail and frayed, nearly burnt through and little more than a tether binding them together precariously. If she pulled too hard on her only current connection to reality it might break and then she would truly be lost in this nothingness, forever wandering. But she had to believe that she would find her way out, find the path back, back to life and sun and love and freedom. Back to her baby and her mage and a body wracked with agony, burnt so badly she wondered if maybe she had died and that was why she was here. But if she had died, then why could she feel her heart beat, still sense Fenris? Shouldn’t there be nothing. And why was it red? Should she not be wandering in darkness, if she was dead? She tried to call out for help but it was as if the mist stole her voice, letting no sound escape her lips. Anna wandered on, through the red nothingness. Somewhere there was a path. And she would find it.

 

* * *

 

 

Fenris sat up slowly, feeling nauseous and dizzy at the movement but pressing on nonetheless. He lay in a bed similar to Anna's, in the same room she was kept in. If he turned his head, he could see her bandaged face. There were less bandages now than there had been when she was brought in, but nonetheless plenty of them. He had heard the whispers of the healers, how they had called him  _spirit healer_ and  _creator_ and said that he was powerful, dangerous, and unstable. Let them say what they wanted: they could not deny that he had saved Anna’s life, that he had healed damage they had decreed permanent and unfixable. That he had saved the child within her, a child that was growing healthy and strong in Anna’s damaged body, getting stronger every day. The problem was that although the baby grew stronger, Anna seemed to weaken at the same pace. As if the child took its strength from her, draining and slowly killing her. Fenris stood on shaky legs and slowly made his way over to her, desperate to touch her even if only for a moment. His legs immediately gave out on him and he ended up in an ungraceful heap on the floor. But that was alright; using his elbows for traction, he pulled himself across the floor until he lay, panting and whimpering from exhaustion, beside her bed. Slowly he pushed himself up, using the foot of the bed as an aid, until he could collapse onto the bed next to her. She lay immobile, unaware of the world around her. He moved as close as he dared, carefully placing his arm over her chest, his hand resting on the slight curve that was their baby.

“Come back to me” he whispered into her hair, thin and brittle and a whitish yellow now that it was growing out again.  “Anna. Come back to me.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Anna had walked another eternity, a minute at least, when she heard it. Whisper-soft at first, but growing stronger. Pleading, cajoling. _Come back to me_. The voice was nowhere and everywhere, and she stopped to try and discern the direction.

“Fenris?” She called, her voice making no sound. “Is that you?”

 _Anna. Come back to me. Anna._ She thought she could sense a direction, and she turned and followed it. _Please. Come back to me. Anna._ She walked faster, each step agony, each breath struggling to bring the air into her aching lungs. _Don’t leave me. Anna. Don’t leave me._ She stumbled over nothing, but pressed on through the redness. Fenris was calling her back. She was _not_ going to let him down now.

 

* * *

 

There was a tiny twitch of a hand, and if Fenris had not been holding it in his he would have missed it. But there it was, a barely noticeable gesture. Slim fingers, wrapped in protective cloth, squeezed his for an instant. Then they stilled, but it had been enough. She was in there! She was on her way back! He focused on that tiny, tiny twitch as he wrapped himself around her as well as his protesting muscles would allow. He closed his eyes and tried to find her through the bond, the bond that connected his soul to hers. She was lost, but he finally had a way to find her.

 

* * *

 

Anna wandered on through the red nothingness, feeling sturdy ground beneath her aching feet and tried her best to not look down and see that there was nothing but more rolling mist beneath her feet. Fenris’ voice was no closer now than it had been before, but still she kept walking in the direction she hoped would lead her back to him. She had to find her way back to him!

But the minutes crawled by like years and she was so very tired. Finally Anna sank to her knees in pure exhaustion, frustrated tears slipping without permission down her cheeks. She was so tired, so impossibly tired, and she did not even know if she had made any progress. That was when she heard the other voice, and she stopped to listen.

“Mummy” it said, and it was as clear as a bell and ringing close, as if just behind or beside her. Anna looked around, but saw no one.

“Yes?” She replied, hesitantly.

“Mummy, you must hurry back.”

“I’m trying!” She protested. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am.” Anna pressed her hands to her belly, and felt a flare of life in there.

“Baby?” She whispered, shocked and a little alarmed. The voice laughed, sweet and clear as a spring brook.

“Yes, mummy. Now hurry back to daddy so I can be born.”

Anna laughed and stood up, suddenly filled again with energy and hope. She walked on with new confidence, hand still pressed against her belly, feeling the warmth and love from her unborn baby give her a strength she had not known she possessed.

 

* * *

 

Fenris leaned his cheek against Anna’s immobile hand, kissing it lightly with dry lips.

“Come back to me. Anna. Come back to me.”

* * *

Suddenly the red mist receded as if it had never been there and Anna stood on a gravel path, leading into darkness. Around it and below it there was nothing, but the path was smooth and white and seemed to be made of tiny, tiny glowing stones. She hesitated, but then she felt something tug on the frail bond. Fenris was calling her back, begging her to return to him, and she took a hesitant first step on the path. The stones crunched beneath her feet but it seemed sturdy, even though it was surrounded by this shifting, ever-moving darkness. Anna started walking, following the path, following the voice. She was going home.

 

* * *

 

The immobile, lifeless hand under Fenris’ cheek turned, cradled his face. He looked up in shock. Anna’s eyes were wide open and she looked at him with so much love it made his heart skip a beat.

“Anna” he whispered reverently.

She smiled back.

 

* * *

 

Fenris walked up the steps leading to Danarius' elegant mansion slowly, his feet heavy and his head hung low. He was exhausted, but had not wanted to leave Anna. He had much preferred to stay by her side and try to help her as much as possible. Eventually, a well-meaning healer had basically had him thrown out and forbidden him to return for at least a full day, saying he needed to rest and eat or he would be no use to Anna. He was in no state to help her; his energy reserves were too low to be an active participant in any sort of healing, even if he had any training in magic instead of just an unbendable will. He had protested, of course, not wanting to go. But in the end he had run out of arguments that he was willing to make and had left, after they had pointed out to him that since Anna had regained consciousness, they could move on to more advanced healing and since he was completely untrained he was incapable of assisting them with that.

 

He stood now in the snowfall that turned the dark skies a murky grey and the streets to silky white, trembling as his bare feet sunk into the snow. He was exhausted in more ways than one; a weariness that sank deep into his bones and made his shoulders droop, his back hunch over. Still, even though the chill wind tore at his too-thin clothes, he was reluctant to open the heavy wooden door. He had a pretty good idea what was awaiting him beyond the gate, and he did not want to face his master’s wrath before strictly necessary.


	15. Chapter 15

Fenris had spent days at Anna’s side, how many he did not know, and was surprised that Danarius had not been by or sent some of his lackeys to fetch his errant slave boy back home for a suitable punishment for his behaviour. Then again, his master had probably expected him to be forced to return eventually and was anticipating his doing so. Therefore Fenris stood, in the cold night, just outside the door of a house that had once upon a time been a safe haven and was now the precipice of his own private hell. He forced himself to think of Anna in her hospital bed, so pale and so lovely even with the horrific scars covering most of her body. She had looked like an angel amongst the white sheets, and he had to do this for her. She had faced a dragon alone and she had slain it; he could face his master’s wrath.

 

He opened the door and slowly entered the hall. It was still, silent, but the calm only served to put him on alert; his senses sharpening to a knife-point, ready for whatever would come at him from out of the shadows of the barely lit entrance hall. He listened carefully for any sort of noise alerting him to another's presence, be it breath or footsteps, but there was nothing. Just this uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Slowly he made his way down the hall, frozen feet sinking into the lush carpet blanketing the marble floors. Somewhere in this house his master awaited his arrival, and he would surely not be pleased. The question was, whether to attempt to avoid the man or to face him head-on in his rage and get it over with. The punishment was unavoidable, after all. He wondered what it might be. Would her be hung by his arms and whipped bloody? Burned? Electrocuted? It did not matter. There was no pain, no degradation, no agony he would not suffer for Anna, could not endure with her image in his mind. If he could only hold fast to Anna, even hell itself would be something he could brave without fear. She was his angel of light, his protector and his guardian. But right now she lay weakened and she needed him to be strong. He would be strong for her.

 

With great reluctance, he entered the grand hall that lay beyond the entrance hall. It was Danarius’ favourite room with its high elegant ceiling, stained glass windows and imposing throne at the furthest end. Fenris was not in the least surprised that his master sat upon said throne, like a vengeful god awaiting his faithless servant.

“So” he said with a voice that could have chilled on ice giant, “the lost lamb returns home at last.” Fenris froze in dread. This voice was sweet in a way he had learnt to recognize as a thin mask for a rage that he had not been the target of for a very long time - only once since the last time he had made one of his more successful attempts at escape and managed to get to the harbour before his pursuers caught up with him. The night after he had lain with Anna for the first time, at the inn where they had met. The inn where he had learnt her warmth, learnt what it meant to not only give a woman pleasure but to find his own pleasure in her.

 

He raised his gaze slowly, not wanting to see the nightmare he knew was about to unfurl, but he thought of Anna and forced himself to be brave. She deserved someone who was brave, like she was. His master’s eyes were two thin pinpricks of rage, like molten lava and unbending stone and a never ending hatred. All of it directed at him.

! You defy me at every turn. First you rut with that Fereldan bitch, then you sneak out not once but several times to rut with her again and again, panting after her like a brainless mutt after a bitch in heat. It is sickening. And I will not allow it.”

“Anna has won our freedom” he said, even though his mouth was dry and his tongue swollen with dread. “You yourself saw that she won the threefold challenge, it has been recognised by the council that she faced your challenge and won. You have no hold over me anymore.”

“Don’t I?” Danarius laughed, and the sound sent a chill down Fenris’ spine.

“You forget, little pet, that it was I who allowed you to live when I could have gotten rid of you like the useless mutt you were. I turned you into a weapon of unmistakable power, I gave you a purpose higher than any slave ever could dream off. And you reward me by wanting to run off with a Fereldan whore.”

“You gave me _purpose?_ An agony unimaginable whenever you decide to do any sort of spell in my presence? To be a living source of lyrium for a power-mad bastard who tortures his servants for kicks?” Fenris heard his voice raised in anger and wanted to cower in the dark, but the image of Anna burned too brightly in his mind to allow self-preservation to win. Instead he wielded his anger like a shield. Like the shield she was created to be. “You tortured me beyond endurance, turned me into…” He made a helpless gesture towards the scars littering his body, “into _this,_ and expect me to what, be grateful? You who torment my every waking moment, who deny my meals, beat me when it suits you and whore me out when you feel like rewarding your bitch of an apprentice for having proven herself to be just like you? And you expect me to be _grateful?”_ Fenris spat out the last word, hands clenching into fists in his rage. He could feel a hum that by now was familiar as bright blue flames erupted from his fists, trailing up his arms until his entire upper body glowed with a familiar blue-white light. It burned in his veins like dragon fire when the lyrium inside him responded, but he did not care at this point. This bastard would not have any power of him anymore! He was Anna's now. He belonged to his templar.

“How dare you turn the powers I gave you against me!” Danarius raged, raising his staff to attack the insolent elf who stood before him, an unnatural glow in his eyes. Fenris looked like an abomination fresh from the fade, with every vein in his body burning bright white and his eyes shining like white orbs of pure power. His fists were clenched and ready to strike, his lips were drawn back into a snarl of rage. He looked like a rabid animal, and there was only one way to deal with a rabid animal. Put it down. Danarius gathered his power, aiming for the heart beating wildly in the slave’s chest.

 

Fenris saw the attack before it erupted, but as he had never received any training to control the powers he carried within him he had no way of countering. He threw himself out of the way, expecting an explosion. It never came. He looked up from his position on the floor and stared in amazement at the shape that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of the hall stood a knight in full armour, a helmet covering its face, a heavy two-handed sword raised over its head in a pose that was both protective and ready to attack. The knight glowed bright yellow, like the sun breaking through the clouds. Or, to be more specific, like Anna’s hair when the sun shone in through the windows. That’s when he understood. The figure standing between him and Danarius like a living shield was _Anna_. It was his templar, coming to his aid. Fenris got to his feet, feeling the bond sing triumphantly inside him. Suddenly he felt like he could take on an army of golems and win. He walked towards Danarius, grim determination in his eyes. The knight moved forward too, still keeping between the mage and the elf. Danarius fired again, but as before his attack was absorbed by the knight as if it had been nothing. Fenris kept advancing, fury boiling in his veins as he looked at his tormentor. This would end here, tonight. He was going to end this. And then he was taking Anna onto the nearest ship out of this blasted country and going… somewhere, away, somewhere they could be free and together. Like they would never be in Tevinter. The closer he got to the knight the more the pain in his veins seemed to lessen, it was still there but it did not matter as he advanced on his previous master, his eyes promising hell to pay. Danarius started to back away, throwing spell after spell at the elf with increasing desperation, but each spell he threw was absorbed into the golden knight’s glowing sword.

 

Fenris could see the panic in the magister’s eyes as he realised that no matter what he threw at the slave advancing on him, the spectre of the knight that still seemed to be shining would take the damage and nullify it. He lunged for Fenris in a desperate attempt to injure him physically, but Fenris had anticipated such a move and simply stepped out of the way. His still glowing hand darted out and gripped Danarius’ arm with all his strength, getting a twisted satisfaction from hearing the bone snap. The magister cried out in agony and his free hand flared up with a fire ball as he aimed for Fenris’ face. He never had time to launch the attack.

 

Without thinking, Fenris hand launched himself forward as if by its own will and without as much of a whisper it buried itself in the magister’s chest. Then there was a rip and a chunk and the cracking of ribs, a horrifying squelch and the noise of a dying man trying to scream, but choking on his own blood. Fenris yanked his hand back, ripping out the man’s heart in the process. Danarius made one last gurgling sound as he fell to the floor of his precious great hall, the expensive carpet darkening with blood. Fenris swayed in his place, feeling lost and slightly confused as to what had just happened. The bright light emanating from his lyrium infused veins vanished as quickly as it had begun, and he sank to his knees, panting with exertion. He looked up at the golden knight, which seemed to flicker in and out of sight. Then, he heard a voice he had for a time been afraid he’d never hear again.

“Well, that was rather anticlimactic.” Anna said dryly as she vanished, as swiftly and silently as she had appeared.

 

Fenris made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he threw the bloody heart as far away from himself as he could. He stared at his master’s corpse in a mix of wonder and horror. He had dreamed of killing the monster of his nightmares so many times, he had lost count of the ways. But to actually have done it was almost impossible to understand. Suddenly he wanted to be with Anna, to lie in her arms and listen to his heartbeat. He slowly got on his feet, legs trembling with exhaustion. He was covered in blood and… things he’d rather not think about, and to be fair all he cared about now was sleep. He wanted to sleep. And in the morning, he would take Anna away. Far away. Where, did not matter. It was over, she had won his freedom and he had slain the monster. It was time for their happy ever after, now. Like in the fairy tale he vaguely remembered someone reading when he had been a child. It might even have been his mother.

  
He walked up the stairs leading to his master’s bed chambers slowly, wearily, on legs that ached and screamed at him to let them rest. He leaned heavily against the wall for support, his eyes insisting on falling closed. But there was a smile playing in the corner of his mouth, and as he sank onto the cot, still covered in blood, he whispered; (quote).

 

Fenris closed his eyes and slept. He dreamed of Anna.

 


	16. Chapter 16

_The_ _Wild Fox_ was a small merchant ship, mostly trading in silks (officially, that is. The unofficial trade was raw lyrium). On the crisp winter's morning Fenris carried an unconscious Anna on board, gently like a mother with her precious baby. He hid her in the captain's quarters, and passed several expensive jewels to the beady-eyed man to ensure their privacy for the long journey to Kirkwall.

As Fenris laid Anna out on the rough but clean linen sheets, he could hear the creaking and rustling of a ship being ready to leave the harbour, and the calls and general noises of its crew. Fenris looked at Anna and felt his heart ache at the sight. In her heavy bandages and covers, she looked more dead than alive even though he knew that the healing he had done in the hospital had saved her life. Her lungs, while not fully functioning, now drew in air on their own, no magic to sustain them. Her eyes moved in dreams beneath freshly formed eyelids, and on her head a gentle downing of yellow hair had begun growing. The skin covering her damaged limbs was no longer black and cracked, but even though new skin had begun forming it was still raw and split easily, leaving gaping maws of tender flesh. The damage to her bones, they had said, was too deep for any healing magic and she would never fully be able to walk or move her arms. But that did not matter to him; if she lay like a helpless babe for the rest of her days, he would love her and care for her all the same. She was his templar. But more than that, she was the love of his life, the woman he wanted to call wife, the woman who miraculously still carried his unborn child.

Fenris placed a basket full of ointments, creams and bandages on the floor next to the thin cot that served as a bed, and carefully set about caring for her. Each part of her burnt skin was covered with soothing creams, ointments were rubbed into her scalp, carefully dripped into her eyes, rubbed on the inside of her mouth to accelerate the regrowth of her teeth.

He could hear sailors move in the corridor outside, but the money he had paid for passage had also paid for their privacy and thus no one as much as touched the door handle. He was immensely grateful for this; the captain might have been a greedy bastard, but he was a man o0f his word. Once he had been bought, he stayed bought.

Fenris carefully touched Anna's mind through their bond, searching for any pain, but found only peace and calm. It was as if she floated peacefully in an ocean, rocked by its waves and protected by its depths. No pain or fear could reach her there. If he had the possibility, he would have joined her – but someone needed to care for her wounds. And he did not trust anyone in the world to do so in his place.

He leaned in and kissed a soft, uncovered cheek where the skin was still freshly healed, bright and pink.

"I love you" he whispered. "You are everything to me."

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks passed uneventfully as  _The Wild Fox_  crossed the Seas; dully, uneventfully, slowly. Each day Fenris cared for Anna, told her stories, rested beside her, explored her mind, and tried to learn more about this power that throbbed within him. He wondered if it was because if this power Hadrianus had been so interested in him; was that why he had been chosen to receive the markings that stripped him of everything he was and gave him unending pain? He didn't know. Would never know, for his previous master was dead by his own hand. He could not bring himself to regret it.

Anna, who laid next to him on the thin cot, moved in her sleep. She had been having lucid moments lately, although she spent most of her time asleep. He hoped today would be the day when she would open her eyes and know who he was. Fenris sat up slowly, carefully watching her face for any sign of consciousness. His heart skipped a beat when she opened her eyes and they were free from the film of confusion that had been there before. She made a noise that was probably meant to be his name, and he pressed a mug of water to her chafed lips. She drank eagerly, and once she had had her fill she coughed softly and licked her dry lips.

"Fenris" she whispered in a voice hoarse with disuse.

"I'm here" he replied, breathless with joy at finally hearing her voice again.

"Where are we?" she sighed, eyes already sliding closed.

"Three days journey from Kirkwall, they tell me." He picked up a bowl of mostly cold gruel. "Please, try to eat. You need it. "Anna frowned unhappily, but obeyed. After a few mouthfuls, she grimaced and turned her face away.

"No more" she murmured, sounding exhausted.

He held her close to his heart as she fell back into a healing sleep.

They arrived in Kirkwall an early morning in the first days of spring, and he carried her through the city towards the Circle, where he hoped to find healers that could help her. First Enchanter Orsino received Fenris with kindness, and he immediately had his best healers brought to attend Anna. When Fenris was reassured that his templar was well looked after, he reluctantly followed the Enchanter into his office.

He sat down in an elegant chair, stuffed with down and covered with expensive silk, and accepted a small glass of some sort of spirits.

"What happens now?" He asked, looking thoughtfully at the golden liquid.

"We will give you basic instruction, but from what you told me about how you healed Templar Hawke immediately after her… incident, my instincts tell me that you ought to head to Skyhold as soon as you can. Your powers are unlike anything I have ever seen before. However, first I suggest that you travel to Lake Calenhad – the best healers in the known world are there. Healers far beyond the skills of my best mages. They can help Hawke in ways we cannot even begin to fathom."

Fenris nodded thoughtfully. He was still far from pleased with the idea of being called "mage", but if it meant that he would get to have Anna, he could manage. He thought of all they had suffered through, all that was left for them to face. Then he remembered the gentle swell of her stomach, of the child growing there. It did not matter what was to come ahead; they would face it together. They were a family.

He returned to Anna's bedside, and took her damaged hand in his healthy one. With his other hand he stroked her stomach, feeling the ridges and indents of the scars there. It was a miracle that their child was still strong in there, still holding on. He leaned in and kissed her left cheek, the one who was grotesquely unmarred amongst the ruin. Into her good ear, the one that heard him, he recited quietly: " _My heart it is brighter than all of the many stars in the sky, for it sparkles with Anna. It glows with the light of the love of my Anna – With the thought of the light of the eyes of my Anna._ _ **[1]**_ _"_

Anna opened her eyes and smiled for the first time in months.

"That was beautiful" she sighed. She squeezed his hand carefully in hers, looking at him through lowered lashes.

"I thought…" she said quietly, not wanting to utter the impossible words. She didn't need to. He moved closer, moving his hand from her stomach to her left cheek, the one who had been left unmarred as she burned. It felt good, like it belonged there. He chose to ignore that the rest was a mangled mess of charred flesh, scar tissue and small patches of fresh skin.

"So did I" he replied, in the same hushed tones. "I thought..." his voice trembled slightly with the impossibility.”I thought I would lose you both." The thought of living without her was like ice in his veins. She turned her head, kissed his palm.

"But you didn't" she murmured. "I live. She lives."

"She?" He blinked in confusion.

"Didn't I tell you?" And from Anna's damaged throat rose a sound he had for a time thought he would never hear again. Laughter. The same sweet, teasing sound he remembered from the first time he saw her. "We're having a girl."

 

 

[1] Edgar Allan Poe; "For Annie", name changed to fit.


End file.
